Supernatural redone
by Beezer
Summary: Up to Season 3 redone. With a character named Bridget added to the episodes. Basically a "what if" if her character existed throughout the series. How would it stay the same but how would it be very different? (Based off of Sam.Brooke/Dean fanvideos)
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. I based Bridget off of fan videos I've seen with Brooke from One Tree Hill and came up with a character to put in a "what if" universe. So this is the pilot from season one I wrote for a friend and decided to post it out of boredom. 

**S1 E1 PILOT**

"Come on, I need your help with me on this, Sam," Dean pleaded with his younger brother which was hard enough seeing as how they'd been estranged for four years when Sam ran off to college after high school leaving him and their dad to take on the "business" .

Sam shook his head. "He's always missing and he's always fine."

"Not for this long. Are you coming with me and Bridget or not?"

"No, I'm…who's Bridget?" He doubled back with a frown.

Dean grinned, face lighting up. "She's a tiger is what she is," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "She's over there by my car."

Sam first noticed the girl leaning against the Mustang, her dark brown hair tossed over her shoulders, head tilted back with her eyes closed as if sunbathing in the dark. She wore a blue tank top with a white tank top beneath it and a black jacket over it. Her denim skirt went to just above her knees and her black boots went to just below her knee showing the palest glimpse of skin at her thighs when she moved her legs. It would have been a typical prostitute outfit but for some reason he found she could work it into classy.

"You brought a toy with you?" he asked glumly at his brother.

Dean shook his head, "God, no. Not that I wouldn't get with that but she's made it very clear on several occasions that I'm not going to be touching her in a sexual or flirtatious manner ever."

"How'd she get that point across?"

"With her knee digging into my kidney's, my arm twisted behind my back, and my face in the floor."

Sam's eyes widened. "She pinned you."

"Yeah and not in a good way. Just because she looks like a babe doesn't mean she can't fight like a damn karate kid."

"So…she knows?"

"Ohh yeah, she found us…or we found her," he shook his head. "It was a collaboration of the two things. Three years ago Dad and I are on a hunt for old yellow eyes and we come across some poltergeist and one pins me, next thing I know some rock salt blast blows it away. I think its Dad but there's this gorgeous chick standing there with a shot gun and this dead set determined look on her face that was a total turn on in her skirt and boots…anyway she joined up with us after proving herself to Dad…he got kinda proud with her after awhile. Like the daughter he never had…bitch even got to ride shot gun after awhile…"

"Sounds like you don't need me."

"We do, we can't do this on our own."

"I'm done with it, Dean."

"Come on, it wasn't that bad."

Sam looked at him in a you're kidding manner. "When I told dad I was scared of the thing in my closet he gave me .45."

"So what? What was he supposed to do?"

"I was nine! He was supposed to say don't be afraid of the dark."

"Lots of things live in the dark, Sam."

"Yeah I know. But ever since Mom died Dad's been obsessed with it and we haven't found anything. Just killed whatever we found."

"Saved a lot of people doing it," argued Dean.

"We were raised like warriors!"

"So what are you going to do? Just live a normal apple pie life?" Dean asked angrily.

"No. Not normal. Just safe."

Dean rubbed at his eyes. "Dad's in trouble, I can feel it. I can't do this alone."

"You won't. You got Kick Ass Katie over there in her boots and skirt."

"We need you, Sam. He's your Dad. I need you…"

Sam sighed as they walked to the car, Dean smiling triumphantly. "Got him," he told the girl as they approached.

The brunette smiled, teeth gleaming perfectly in her round face. "Took you long enough, Dean," she held her hand out to Sam. "I'm Bridget."

"Sam," he said, shaking her hand as she moved with them to the back of the car. She paused a moment next to Dean and socked his arm. Sam even winced at the force as Dean grabbed the spot and looked at her. "OW! What the hell was that for?"

"Calling me a bitch when you told your brother I rode shot gun in your dad's truck."

Sam seemed impressed. Bridget turned to him with a smile and tapped her ear. "I have really good hearing…so that means…" she smacked Sam's arm and even he rubbed at the spot and that was just the back of her hand. She was strong for her size. "That's for calling me a toy. Now that that's out of the way let's get down to business." She held up a finger in Dean's direction to silence him. "Dean, I swear to God you make a comment and you'll be lying in the asphalt no longer wondering what it taste like."

Dean shut his mouth and opened the trunk.

"What was Dad hunting?" Sam asked.

"We're not sure," Bridget answered as Dean rummaged through the trunk.

"Why didn't either of you go with him?"

Bridget snorted. "Like I go with John unless invited to do so."

He raised his eyebrows. "You call him John."

"That is his name you know," she nodded her head brushing a strand of her dark hair from her eyes.

"Never heard anyone really call him that except his friends."

"Like Bobby."

"You know Bobby?"

"Why do you keep sounding surprised, Sam? Is it that fact I'm a female or that I know about these things yet I'm not freaked out?"

"Not sure…"

"Besides," Dean interrupted. "We were doing a gig in New Orleans. You know the typical Voo Doo crap."

"Dad let's you go on a hunting trip alone."

"Dude, I'm twenty-six. Bridget is twenty-five. Okay here we go," he laid out a map. "Dad was in Jericho California. About a month ago they find his car, he's gone. Completely M.I.A."

"Maybe he was kidnapped."

Bridget pulled out a folder from the trunk and took out neatly organized papers, tapping her blue finger nail against it, "Here's another one in April," pulls out another article. "Another one in December '04, '03, '98, '92. Ten of them over the past twenty years, all men, all same five mile stretch. Started happening more and more so your Dad went to go digging around. That was three weeks ago. We haven't heard from him since. Then Dean get's this voice mail."

Dean had his cell phone in hand and hit a button. The phone crackled from static on the other side and Sam could hear his father. "Dean, Bridge, something is starting to happen, I think it's serious. I need to try and figure out what's going on. Be very careful, we're all in danger."

Sam pointed at the phone. "There's an EVP on that."

"Not bad, Sammy. Like riding a bike. Bridge went over it on her computer. We pulled this." He played the recorder he had in his other hand and a woman's voice came over the static. "I can never go home."

"Never go home," Sam repeated with a frown.

"I've never bugged you for four years, Sam," Dean said, putting his phone back in his pocket.

"All right, I'll help you both out, I have to be back first thing Monday though."

"Why Monday?" Bridget asked.

"I go this…interview."

"Job interview?" Dean asked.

"It's law school interview. It's my whole future on a plate."

"Law school?" Dean questioned with raised eyebrows.

It was a bright day out as the two sat in the car waiting for Dean. Sam was riding in the front, which he was sure Bridget despised him for. He mulled through Dean's cassette tapes.

Bridget was sitting in the back seat, reading a book, still wearing her usual denim cut off skirt and black boots. This time she had on a black spaghetti strap shirt, her hair down, bangs hanging lightly in her eyes. One hand held the book, the other absent mindedly twisted pulled a ring back and forth across an intricate wheat style chain that sparkled with what he imagined diamond bits in it. The ring appeared to be a twisted band of white gold with a moonstone in the center and two smaller diamonds twisted into it one each side.

"Nice ring," he said making small talk.

She paused in her twisting the ring as if realizing she was doing it. She stopped moving it but still held it, "Thank you."

"Nice chain too. Are those diamonds that make it sparkle like that."

"Uh huh," she said and turned the page expertly with the hand holding the book.

"Where did you get it?"

Her eyes didn't move from the page, "My brother gave me the chain for my birthday a few years back."

He nodded his head and scratched the back of his head. "So…what does he think of you doing all this?"

She froze then, eyes moving up to him, mouth slightly open, her tongue licking her teeth from behind slightly in thought. "He's dead."

Sam winced and mentally smacked himself for asking a question like that. "God, I'm sorry. I had no idea."

Dean opened the door then saving him from further digging a grave. He waved some breakfast bars at Sam and handed Bridget her Gatorade and change. "You want breakfast?" he asked. Bridget leaned over and plucked one from his hand, sitting back in her seat.

"So how do you pay for this stuff?" Sam asked. "Rip off credit cards?"

"Hey, I pay in cash," Bridget defended herself, drinking her Gatorade,

"Not our fault they send us credit card apps."

"You gotta update your cassette collection," Sam shook his head.

"Why?" Dean asked.

He went through it naming some. "Black Sabbath? AC/DC? Aerosmith? Metallica?"

"Hey! What's wrong with that?" Bridget argued sitting forward between the two. "Those are classics. That is _real _music. Not the Blink 182 Fallout Boy bullshit out there nowadays."

"Amen sister," Dean reached over and took a tape from him, putting it in. "Rules of the car. Driver picks the music. Shotgun shuts his cake hole. And backseat is a music goddess."

"I can agree to that," she smiled.

After hours of driving, they finally reached the bridge where the next accident happened. Police were lining the bridge and Sam was wondering how they'd get into this. Bridget handed Dean something from a lockbox she had with her in the backseat and he handed one to Sam. It was a fake detective ID. "Check it out. Let's go."

They all got out of the car and approached the police. One cop leaned over and yelled over the bridge. "Did you guys find anything?"

"No nothing. No sign of struggle, no footprints, no fingerprints. Spotless. It's almost too clean."

One of the cops turned to the other cop. "So this Troy kid, he was dating your daughter?"

The cop nodded, "Yeah."

"How's Amy doing?"

"She's putting up missing posters downtown."

"You fellas had another one a month ago, right?" Dean asked as they got closer.

The cop looked them over. "Who are you?"

Dean flipped open the wallet. "Federal Marshal's."

"Aren't you three a little young?" he eyed Bridget's clothes, not the typical Federal outfit

"Well that's awfully kind of you," she smiled. "Bartender found my age hard to believe too during my undercover gig on a drug bust I just got down with few counties over. We've been watching this for awhile though. So you guys had another last month?"

"Yeah, about a mile up the road. There've been a lot like this," the cop admitted.

Sam asked, "The victim. You knew him?"

"Town like this everybody knows everybody."

"Any connections to the victims besides that they're all men?" Bridget asked as they circled the car with the cop.

"No, not as far we can tell."

"So what's the theory?" Sam asked and stood on Dean's other side.

"Honestly, we don't know. Serial killer? Kidnapping ring?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Well that is exactly the kind of crack police work I expect out of you guys."

Sam stomped on Dean's foot. "Thank you, for your time, gentlemen." The three of them started walking back to the car, and once out of range Dean smacked Sam upside the head. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Why did you step on my foot?"

"Why did you talk to the police like that?"

"Oh, come on they don't know what's going on," Dean said. "We're in this alone."

Bridget cleared her throat indicating behind Dean where the sheriff stood with two investigators.

"Can I help you three?"

"No, we were just leaving," Dean smiled and they got back in the car, taking off.

Now they were walking around the downtown area, in search of Troy's girlfriend. It didn't take long to spot her in the small town. Dean nudged Sam, "I bet that's her."

They slowly approached her, Dean walking in the middle between his brother and friend. "You must be Amy," he said as they got closer.

The young girl turned around to face them, cautiously. "Yeah…"

"Troy told us about you," Dean said and gestured at Sam. "We're his uncles." He put his arm around Bridget's shoulders, "This is my girlfriend." She stiffened next to him and forced a smile though her eyes said he would pay dearly later.

"Troy never mentioned you."

Dean shrugged. "Well, that's Troy. We're not much around. We're up in Modesto. We're looking for him too, asking around."

"What do you say we go somewhere more comfortable and talk?" Bridget suggested with a warm smile at the girl and touched her arm gently. She nodded and they winded up in a booth at the restaurant where Bridget made sure she sat next to Sam forcing Dean to take the window and Amy to take the aisle seat.

"When did you last hear from him?" Dean asked as their drinks arrived.

"I was on the phone with Troy, he was driving home. He said he would call me back when he got there, but he never did."

"He didn't say anything strange or out of the ordinary?" Sam asked.

"No, nothing I can remember," she said.

Bridget took a sip from her coffee and pointed at Amy's star pendant. "I like your necklace."

She pulled it away from her shirt so they could see better. "Troy gave it to me…I like that ring on your necklace. That a moonstone?"

Bridget touched it, her eyes darkening a bit and she nodded. "Yeah…my boyfriend gave it to me."

Amy looked at Dean. "You have good taste."

He winced slightly forgetting he had told her Bridget was his girlfriend where the truth was more painful and this just made it sting. "Thanks."

"This mostly scares my parents with all the devil stuff," she admitted, not noticing the painful awkward tension that hung in the air. "It's actually the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. If you believe in that kind of thing."

"It's just the way Troy disappeared, something's not right," Dean said.

Amy went silent, thinking.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Well, it's just with all these guys going missing, people talk."

Sam, Dean, and Bridget asked the question at the same time, "What do they talk about?"

"It's kind of this local legend. This one girl, she got murdered out on that road like…decades ago. Well supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, whoever picks her up – well they disappear."

The three exchanged glances, all thinking the same thing…they had just found their answer.

Twenty minutes later after a quick goodbye and they were at the local library. Dean, of course, was on the computer looking through old articles getting nothing each time he typed in. Bridget examined her nails with a sigh. "Let me try, Dean."

"No, I got this."

"You always say that and I'm always the mastermind of research."

"I got it."

"Let me try, _dear_," she growled and smacked him upside the head. "That's for the shoulder hug and girlfriend comment. Don't argue, you deserved it and you know it."

Dean just shook his head still getting no results.

"Can I try?" Sam asked with a sigh.

"I got it," he said.

Sam rolled his eyes and pushed Dean's rolling chair out of the way, moving another in front of it and sitting down.

"Dude, you are such a control freak," he hissed and scooted back over while Bridget leaned forward between them.

"So angry spirits are born out of a violent death, right?" Sam asked.

"You got it," said Bridget. "Doesn't mean murder…

"Bingo," Sam said to her and typed in Suicide Centennial Highway. An article popped up from 1981 about Constance Welch drowning in the river.

"Does it say why she did it?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Says she called 911. Her two little kids were in the bathtub she left for a minute came back in they were dead."

"And look at the bridge she jumped off of," Bridget said pointing at the screen. "Field trip, boys…"

They were standing back on the bridge, the sky dark now and despite the lateness it wasn't cold, no need for her to put on her jacket. The three walked over to the side of the bridge looking down over the edge at the muddy water.

"So this is where Constance took the swan dive?"

"Gee, Dean. Could you be any more sensitive?" Bridget asked him.

"Not really."

"So you think Dad would have been here?" Sam asked looking out over the distance at the nothingness that gave way to the dark.

"Well he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him," Dean shrugged.

"Okay, so now what?" Sam asked turning to the two of them.

"Now we get to digging til we find him," Dean said.

"Dean," Sam said with a shake of his head. "I got to get back –."

"Yeah, Monday. Interview. Got it."

"Yeah," he nodded his head.

"Right…I almost forgot…you're serious about this? You think you're going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?"

Bridget was absentmindedly pulling the ring back and forth again, staring off with a slight pained look as they argued, oblivious to her.

"Maybe. Why not?" Sam asked.

"Does Jessica know the truth bout you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?"

"No," he shook his head. "And she's never going to know."

Dean snorted. "Well that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are." He turned and started walking down the bridge and Sam followed him, Bridget moved but less enthusiastically.

"And who's that, Dean?"

He turned to face him. "One of us."

"No, I'm not like any of you. This is not going to be my life. I don't want it."

"You think any of us did?" Bridget finally spoke, and they both looked at her, the angry look in her hazel brown eyes. "You think we wanted to do this? You think this thing doesn't know who we are…It fell on us…it's our responsibility."

Dean added on, "It's your responsibility."

"To dad and his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what mom looks like. What difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her and kill it, it won't bring her back."

Dean launched at Sam and grabbed him by the shirt pinning him to the rail, Bridget was quick to grab Dean's shoulder. "Dean, stop!"

"Don't you ever talk about mom like that," he growled.

"Dean…come on," Bridget said, easing him off Sam. Dean let go and both happened to look down the bridge to see a woman standing on the ledge in white holding on to the rail. "Sam…Bridget…"

"Yeah," she nodded with wide eyes. "I see her."

"Me too…" Sam nodded.

The woman looked at them then let go, The three ran over to where she was looking down but saw nothing in the water below.

"Where'd she go?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," Sam said.

"She just disappeared," Bridget added.

The three froze when they heard Dean's car start up and slowly they turned to look down the road.

"What the hell?" Bridget muttered.

"Dean…who's driving the car?" Sam asked.

Dean reached into his jacket pocket and took out the keys. The car slowly started coming towards them. Sam grabbed Dean's arm slowly backing up before they started running. "Come on, Dean! Let's go! GO!"

The three sprinted down the road the car tailing them and catching up.

Bridget felt someone grab her arm. "Bridget, move!" Sam shouted and pulled her towards the railing where they had no choice but the jump off. She managed to grab onto the bottom of the ledge and hang there dangling, she managed to turn her head to see Sam next to her. She cracked a smile at him. "How's it hanging?"

He chuckled and pulled himself up the ledge reaching to give her a hand. "Been better…Dean next to you?"

She shook her head, getting her feet up on the ledge, "No I thought he was next to you?"

They both came to the realization that could mean only one thing at the same time and looked down at the water below and shouted. "DEAN!"

"What?" he shouted from the bank, crawling up it, splattered with mud and soaking wet.

They both let out a sigh of relief and Bridget briefly rested her head against Sam's shoulder as she shouted to his brother. "You okay?"

"I'm super!" he said sarcastically as he made it back up to the bridge meeting back with Bridget and Sam. "I didn't know you two would go all spider monkey on me."

"You think I wanted to fall in that mess," she said scrunching her face at Dean.

"Your car all right?" Sam asked as he inspected it.

"Yeah, whatever she did it seems all right now…that bitch."

He got in the car, Bridget sliding into the backseat. "She doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure."

"How about we go get a room?" Sam suggested.

"Yeah…I need a shower."

"A few of them," Bridget nodded in agreement.

They found a small hotel on one side of town and walked in. The desk clerk's eyes widened slightly at Dean's wet and muddy appearance. He plopped the credit card on the counter. "One room please. Two beds preferably."

The man took the card and swiped frowning at the name. "Are you guys having a reunion or something?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked puzzled.

"That other guy, Bert Aframan, rented out a room for a month."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances and Bridget took up the ropes. "Yeah, he's my uncle. They're father. We had no idea he was staying here. Can you tell us what room he's in" she tossed her hair expertly over her shoulder and gave him a gleaming smile. "Please?"

The man blushed slightly and handed her the extra key along with the key to their room. "Room 216, right down the outside."

"Thanks," she winked at him and Dean and Sam followed her out. She stuck the key in the door and pushed it open, giving a whistle at the sight of the room. The bed was unmade and articles and papers were taped to the walls. It would look like a mad mans room to normal people, they weren't normal, this was usual.

Sam was inspecting the salt on the floor in a circle. "He was worried about something." He noticed Bridget staring at the articles and moved to stand next to her. "What do you have?"

"The missing people on the Centennial Highway. I don't get it," she shook her head and gestured at it. "Different men, different ages, nothing in common."

Sam stared at an article and chuckled. "Dad figured it out."

Dean looked at the article of Constance. "Sly dog. So we're dealing with a woman in white."

"Does it say where she was buried?" Bridget asked.

He shook his head, "Not that I can tell. If I was Dad, I'd ask the husband."

"All right. You two find an address. I'm gonna get cleaned up," he said.

"Hey Dean," Sam said. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier-."

Dean held his hand up. "No chick flick moments."

"Okay…jerk."

"Bitch…" Dean went into the bathroom closing the door and Bridget turned on her laptop to find the address. She had in two minutes later which left silence except for the sound of the shower.

Bridget touched the ring at her neck and dropped her hand back down, glancing at her nails. "You're probably wondering how a girl like me ended up doing a gig like this…let's face it, I don't look like the type of girl that kills demons or hunts things that go bump in the night. I didn't always. I was a college student majoring in fashion and minoring in business. I worked part time as a secretary and I was engaged to the love of my life, Will. Met him in college my first year when I was eighteen. We had a small apartment together, planned on buying a house after we were done with school and settled. Somewhere not far from my brother and his wife. We had it all planned out."

"What happened?" Sam asked the inevitable question.

She touched the ring again. "A little over three years ago I was over at my brother's house. He and his wife, Lydia, had just had a baby, my nephew, about a month before. So I was over there visiting with Will, who I had gotten engaged to over that period of time. We were all in the living room, Lydia went upstairs to check on the baby. After fifteen minutes Derek went to see what was taking so long. Will and I heard him yell and we ran up the stairs and…it was on fire…Derek was trapped in the nursery with my nephew. I could see Lydia, pinned to the ceiling…I wanted to get to him but the whole ceiling was coming down in the hall. It was like the fire was alive and was coming after me. Will pulled me away and hurried me out the front door. The last I saw of my brother was the ceiling coming down on him…we got outside and I was a mess I was screaming trying to get back in and Will wouldn't let me and the next thing I knew he's yelling my name and I hear this shot ring out and…and Will's on the ground bleeding from a hole in his chest and this person is standing in the shadows all I saw was blonde hair and these glowing eyes I'll never forget and then they were gone, just melted into shadow…Will died right there on the lawn while I held him…my entire family gone in a night," she met his eyes determined not to cry. "I met your brother and dad three months after that and I've been hunting with them ever since…so you see…sometimes it chooses you…whether you want it or not. And if it wants you, it'll get you one way or another."

Sam was speechless, choked off by her story. "I'm…I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she let out a deep breath. "It was a long time ago. It's why I'm helping Dean find John. I don't want to lose anymore family then I already have."

Dean came out of the shower then, much cleaner than before. "You hungry? I'm starving."

"I'm good," she shook her head.

"Me too," Sam nodded.

He held out the fake credit card. "You sure?"

"Yeah, we'll just stay here."

"Okay, you kids have fun," he said and left.

Bridget shook her head in amusement at him. "He's a character."

"He's something all right," Sam mumbled and his cell phone rang. It was Dean. "What?"

"Dude," he said in a hushed whisper. "Five oh, you and Bridge take off."

"What about you?" he asked.

"They spotted me. You two go find Dad." He clicked the phone then and looked at Bridge who didn't seem fazed as she said. "It's the cops."

He nodded his head, "Yeah, time to go." He looked out the window and saw the cops had Dean.

"Shit," he mumbled.

Bridget came up behind him. "Are they the same cops from earlier?"

"Not that I can tell," he said. "This isn't good."

She ran her fingers through her hair, bushing it out a bit to look a bit tasseled. "I got an idea, don't worry." She looped her arm through his and winked at him. "Play along with me." They both moved out of the room, unseen by the police officer and she moved them around the corner and made a show of just coming around the corner, clinging to Sam's arm and giggling, fumbling with her footing. Sam held onto her, forcing himself to relax. The cop walked right past them as they walked to the end of the motel.

"Are they still watching us?" she whispered with a giggle.

Sam glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah…ones walking towards us."

"Got it," she snorted and let out another drunken laugh then stumbled against Sam hard enough to knock him flat against the door to what was their original hotel room. She had the key in her pocket. But before Sam could say anything she planted her lips on his, arms going around him as she pressed herself against him, feeling him tense up in the surprise of the onslaught.

"Excuse me," a voice said clearing their throat from her right.

She parted from Sam, staying close to him and looked with heavy lids at the officer. "Can I help you officer?" she asked slightly slurred.

"Do you know where the other occupants of the room down the way are?"

She frowned puzzled. "No idea…we just got here after a loooonng night at the bar a few blocks away," she snorted. "Looonnggg walk when you're drinking, right honey."

Sam nodded when she patted her hand against his chest a little harder than necessary, he got the hint. "Ohh yeeaa," he said.

"Maybe they're there…there was a looott of people there."

The officer nodded. "Thank you for your cooperation," he said and walked away towards the squad car that held Dean.

Bridget opened the door and pulled Sam in with a sigh, fixing her hair and her lipstick in the mirror. "Sorry about that, I had to think quick and you seemed shaky enough as it is. Didn't want you blowing our cover."

"What do we do now?" he asked, forgetting the kiss or trying to.

She held out the paper with the address on it. "We go visit Joseph Welch."

He took it from her and looked at the address. "How do we get there?"

She smiled and took out Dean's keys. "I'm a jack of all trades."

He took the keys from her and looked at her smiling triumphantly, her hands on her slender hips, one leg bent slightly. He couldn't help but notice that she was beautiful, despite the fact he had Jessica who was everything to him, but Bridge was different. She came from his world, knew about things he did, she had been in college and knew that life and this one. She was…different. "You're something all right."

They knocked on the door to the blue house and a man in his late fifties answered. "Hi," Sam said nervously, "Uh, are you Joseph Welch?"

"Yeah."

"Can we talk to you?" Bridget asked as he stepped outside.

"About?"

Sam handed him a photo of his dad. "Have you seen this man? He's gone missing?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "He's a bit older than that picture but he came by three or four days ago, said he was a reporter."

"That's right," Bridget nodded. "We're working on a story together. We're his apprentices."

"Well I don't know what kind of story you guys are writing with the questions he asked me."

"About what?" Sam asked.

"Where Constance was buried."

"Where was that?"

"In a plot behind my old place in Breckenridge."

"Why did you move?" Sam asked.

"I'm not going to live in the house where my children died," he said.

"Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?" Bridget asked.

"No," he shook his head. "Constance was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I'd ever known."

"So you had a happy marriage?" Sam questioned.

He hesitated long enough that Bridget took notice as well as Sam. "Definitely."

"Well that should do it," Sam said and put his arm on Bridget's shoulder to direct her to the car. "Thank you for your time," Sam paused halfway down the walkway. "Mr. Welch, have you ever hear of the woman in white?"

"The what?" he asked.

Bridget spoke before Sam did taking him by surprise on her book smarts. "Woman in white, or sometimes a weeping woman. It's a ghost story. Well it's more of a phenomenon really. Um, they're spirits. They've been sited for hundreds of years. Dozens of places; in Hawaii and Mexico. Lately in Arizona and Indiana. All these are different women, you understand. But all share the same story."

"Girl, I don't care much for that nonsense."

Sam filled in the rest. "You see, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them. And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children. Then once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed. Walking back roads, waterways, and if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him, and that man is never seen again."

He seemed stunned by the truth, "You think-You think that has something to do with Constance? You smartass."

"You tell us."

He huffed. "I mean maybe—maybe I made some mistakes, but no matter what I did, Constance would never would have killed her own children. Now you get the hell out of here, and you don't come back."

Bridget nodded her head and turned to Sam. "Oh yeah, he cheated and she killed them…we need to find the body…and go get Dean."

"How do we do that?"

She took out her cell phone punching in some numbers. "I'm on it, just get us to that house, drop me off and meet me back there."

"I'm not leaving you alone there."

"I'm a girl, she doesn't want me…and I'll take the shotgun, I just want to see if I can find her plot. That way you boys can get to diggin'. Better get a move on," she said and slid into the car. Sam shook his head, amazed at her boldness.

His cell phone rang as he was driving down the highway having just dropped off Bridget. "Hello."

"Fake 911 call, that's pretty illegal."

"Bridget made it, not me."

"Should have figured," he snorted. "Where is she?"

"At Constance's old house inspecting it and finding the grave. I'm on my way to get you."

"No, just go back to the house and help her, I'll meet you there. It's not a long walk. I got something to show you…I found Dad's journal."

"He never goes anywhere without that."

"He did this time."

"What's it say?"

"Same military crap on where to find him."

"I don't get it. Why would he skip out on a mission, what the hell did he find? Whoa!" Sam slammed the breaks, eyes wide at the woman in white who was in front of his car. She disappeared and was suddenly in the back seat.

"Take me home."

He shook his head as his phone went dead, "No." He reached for the door and found it locked, it wouldn't budge. He was trapped. The car turned around and began driving back to the house on Breckenridge. Then it shut off.

"Don't do this," he shook his head.

"I can never go home," she said.

"You're scared to go home," Sam said with a frown as it dawned on him. He turned to look at her in the backseat, she was gone. He turned back around and suddenly she was in the passenger seat, pushing him down, sitting on top of him.

"Hold me, I'm cold," she pouted.

Sam shook his head, "You can't kill me. I've never been unfaithful."

She smiled. "You've thought it when you fought it," she said and leaned down to kiss him. She turned into a monster and disappeared but her claws started to attack him, scratching at his chest, trying to reach into him. He screamed at the pain of her digging into his chest with her fingers. A gunshot rang through the car and she reformed turning to see Bridget standing there with a shot gun and a smile. "Say bye bye bitch," she fired again and Constance screamed. She was distracted enough that Sam turned the ignition of the car, "You're going home." He hit the gas pedal and the car lurched forward crashing through the house.

"Sam!" Bridget yelled and ran inside through the gapping hole towards the car. "Sam! Are you okay?"

"I think," he coughed as she reached the driver window.

"Can you move?" she asked.

"Yeah, help me out," he said and Bridget put down the shot gun and helped him out of the car, pulling him out and helping him stand as they moved in front of the car where Constance was looking at a picture of her kids. She threw it the ground and with a yell the heavy dresser lurched forward and pinned Sam and Bridget to the hood of the car. They struggled to push it off but to no avail with a pissed off ghost and the shot gun was out of reach by mere inches from her fingers as she reached for, trying to pull her body to get it. It tilted back and forth as she reached, wanting it to come towards her. It moved faster in small rotations, dancing near her fingers…it was right there. Suddenly the lights flickered and she stopped reaching turning towards the staircase to see two small children there. "You've come home to us mommy."

They watched as her kids were suddenly behind her, grabbing her as she screamed and melted away into shadows with them. The dresser suddenly became lighter and they pushed it away, standing up just as Dean came through the hole the car made.

"Oh my God!" he rushed over to his car. "My baby! What did you do?"

"Stopped a crazed ghost from killing me," Sam said with a shake of his head.

"So this is where she drowned her kids," Bridget said looking around the house.

"That's why she could never go home," said Sam. "She was too scared to face her kids."

Dean clapped him on the back. "You found the weak spot. Way to go."

"What about me?"

"You shot Casper in the face," Sam told her.

"Yeah, and I saved your ass didn't I?" she asked and got in the car.

Sam didn't mention that it was her that got him in that situation. The kiss had been the reason she could hurt him. And he didn't mention noticing the gun tilt when she reached for it, trying to get it.

He got in the car with Dean who patted the dashboard, promising to get her all fixed up later. "If you hurt my car I'll kill you," he told Sam and put the journal on the seat. "So here's where Dad is," he pointed at it and Bridge leaned forward to see. "It's called Blackwater Ridge Colorado.

"Sounds charming," she muttered. "How far?"

"About 600 miles. If we shag ass we can be there by morning."

Sam cleared his throat, "Uh…Dean."

His face fell, "You're not going with us…"

"My interview is in ten hours. I gotta be there."

"Yeah," he nodded and started the car. "Yeah, I'll take you home."

They pulled up to Sam's apartment and they all sat there in silence. Sam grabbed his bag out of the backseat next to Bridge who stared at her nails over the front seat, closest to Dean. The remaining two off to do this on their own when it had been so much better as the three of them. She felt less alone with Sam, like the triangle was complete.

"So, you'll call me if you find out anything about Dad?"

Dean nodded, staring at the dashboard.

"Maybe I can meet up with you guys sometime later," Sam suggested.

Bridget nodded her head, inspecting her nails. "Yeah, sure."

Sam started to leave and Dean called out, "Sam." He turned around. "The three of us made one hell of a team."

He nodded slowly, "Yeah…"

Dean and Bridget drove away slowly and she hopped into the front seat. She ran her fingers through her hair, staring out the windshield. "Just the two of us again."

"Yeah…we're used to it though…"

She nodded and gasped suddenly, grabbing at her necklace as she felt something. It was almost as if her necklace burned.

Dean slammed on the brakes and looked at her, hand on her back. "What? Bridge, what's wrong?"

She shook her head, hand on his arm. "I don't know. Go back. We need to go back to Sam. Now!"

Dean put the car in reverse without a second question and peeled out towards Sam's. When they got there it was on fire. "Oh God!" she said and got out of the car. Dean held a hand out to her as he ran towards the front. "Stay here!"

Bridget waited, biting her nails and touching her necklace with the other hand. It wasn't burning anymore, but it had been. It had never done that before, she had never been filled with that sense of urgency…whatever it was she was lucky they had gone back.

Dean came out the fiery door with Sam then and she let out a sigh of relief until she saw there was no Jess. She looked at Dean and he shook his head…it had gotten her…that bastard had gotten her. She put her hand hesitantly on Sam's shoulder as they watched the fire department put out the fire. Dean stood next to her quietly, hands in his pockets. None of them said anything. There was nothing to say. But Bridget was right, Sam realized. He couldn't run away from this, it would get him to do it at any cost…and the cost was Jess's life. He turned to look at Dean and Bridget. "We got work to do."


	2. Dead in the Water Ep 3

**DISCLAIMER: ****I do not own any of this. For those reading it I skipped episode 2 because there wasn't enough material for me to add Bridget into the mix. This one thankfully did.**

**S1 EP3 DEAD IN THE WATER**

Bridget sat in the booth of the restaurant, reading one of her Rachel Caine novels while Dean flirted with the blonde waitress, a newspaper in front of him and Sam was in the bathroom. He'd come a long way in the last two weeks following Jess's death by the bastard demon that had not only killed their mother but her brother, nephew, and sister-in-law in the same fashion, not to mention the blonde glowy eyed demon that had shot her fiancé the same night years ago. He was doing better than she could have imagined, but that's what these Winchesters did apparently. Swallow away emotion and move on with it. She did the same thing though the emotion tended to rear its ugly head now and then.

Dean smiled at the waitress as she walked past and Sam sat back down next to her in the booth. "Dude you do know we're allowed to have fun," he pointed at the blonde. "That's fun."

"For you," Sam mumbled.

Dean pushed the newspaper towards him and Bridget. "Here, take a look at this, I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin. Last week Sophie Carlton, 18, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water—Nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago."

"A funeral?" Bridget questioned. "With no body?"

"For closure or whatever," he shrugged his shoulders.

"Closure," Sam repeated. "People don't just disappear. Other people just stop looking for them."

"What are you trying to say, Sam?" Dean asked.

Bridget sat back, recognizing that tone. It was his getting pissed off tone and once Dean was mad – he was mad.

"I'm just saying the trail for dad gets colder and colder every day."

"Exactly, so what are we supposed to do?" Dean asked raising his eyebrows.

"I don't know, something, anything."

"You know what? I'm sick of this attitude. You don't think I want to find Dad as much as you do," Dean said with a sneer.

"I know you do, it's just -."

Dean cut him off, leaning a bit over the table. "I'm the one who's been with him every single day for the last four years, while you've been off going to college and pep rallies. Hell, Bridget's been there the last three. We will find Dad, but until then, we are going to kill everything bad between here and there. Okay?"

Bridget would have found it to be a good speech had the waitress not walked by and Dean's head hadn't followed her. She snorted, meeting Sam's eyes who shrugged his shoulders. "Okay," he said to Dean and snapped his fingers in front of his brother's face. "How far to this lake?"

The car ride was only four hours and Bridge was starting to see the benefits of getting the back seat, she could stretch her legs out across the seat more comfortably. It was better than being cramped under the dashboard all day. Easier to read her books too. They pulled up to a cabin and got out of the car, Bridget adjusted her denim skirt and retied her boots, noticing Dean watching her with a smile, taking in her legs.

She asked without looking up at him, "Dean, do you want to eat dirt?"

"If I get to tap that it may be worth it," he admitted.

"Then I hope the dirt is real sweet today," she said and took a step towards him, but Sam's arm blocked her and redirected her towards the house. "You two can settle this later, I promise, because I think I'll get a kick out of seeing it, but we have work to do." He handed her an ID from the lockbox in the back of the car.

She sighed and walked up the stairs with the two. A young man answered the door then.

"Will Carlton?" Dean asked.

He nodded. "Yeah. That's right."

"I'm Agent Ford, this is Agent Hammil and Agent Fisher," he pointed at Sam then Bridget. "We're with the U.S. Wildlife Service."

He nodded and walked out with them to stand near the lake. His father was sitting on a bench by the dock as Will talked. "She was about a 100 yards out. That's where she got dragged down."

"Are you sure she didn't just drown?" Dean asked.

He nodded. "She was a varsity swimmer. She practically grew up in the lake. She was as safe out there as she was in our own bathtub."

"No splashing?" Sam asked. "No signs of a struggle?"

He shook his head, "No that's what I'm telling you."

"Did you ever see any shadows in the water, Mr. Carlton?" Bridget asked.

He shook his head and gave her a warm smile. "No and you can call me Will."

She hid the wince that wanted to come out from the name alone of her dead fiancé but was pretty sure she didn't hide the tension in her body as she felt Dean briefly touch her elbow. "I like to keep things formal, Mr. Carlton. Part of the job. Did you ever see any strange tracks in the sand?"

"No, never. Why? What do you think is out there?"

"We'll let you know as soon as we do."

Sam gestured at the older gentleman by the shore. "What about your father? Can we talk to him?"

He glanced over at his father and sighed heavily. "Look…if you don't mind, I mean…he didn't see anything and he's been through a lot."

Bridget nodded her head. "We understand."

They turned and walked back to the car. "Where to next?" she asked as she got in the back seat.

"Ranger station," Dean answered and started the car as she leaned forward between the two.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, turning his head to look at her.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, his name…"

She shrugged. "So, it was Will. It's going to take a lot more than someone having the same name as my fiancés to get me to break down, Sammy," she ruffled his hair with a smile. "I'm like a rock."

"Just checking," he said.

"Thank you for the concern," she nodded.

"That's my brother," Dean said. "Always takes care of the emotional bullshit."

"Aweee, I saw you cared," she nudged his shoulder. "You touched my arm."

"Yeah, so? It was because he was flirting. Only I can do that."

"Whatever you say, Han Solo," she snorted.

They pulled up to the Ranger station and went straight in and ended up speaking to a man named Jake for fifteen minutes in an unending argument. Even the air conditioning wasn't worth it to her.

"Now, I'm sorry, but why does the Wildlife Service care about an accidental drowning?" he asked.

"You sure it's accidental?" Sam asked. "Will Carlton saw something grab his sister."

"Like what?" he asked and gesture for the three to finally sit down. Bridget was more than happy to take a seat. "There are no carnivores in the lake. There's nothing even big enough to pull down a person, unless it's the Lochness Monster."

"Yeah," Dean chuckled humorlessly. "Right."

The Ranger shook his head sadly, "Will Carlton was traumatized, and sometimes the mind plays tricks. Still, we dragged that entire lake. We even ran a sonar sweep just to be sure, and there was nothing down there."

"That's weird though," Bridget said with a fake puzzled frown. "I mean that this is the third body to go missing in that lake in a year."

"I know," he seemed older in that instant. "These are people in my town. People I care about. Anyway it won't be a problem much longer."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Well, the dam of course."

"Oh yeah…" Dean nodded. "It uh…sprung a leak."

"It's falling apart, and the feds won't give us the grant to repair it, so they've opened the spillway. In another six months there won't be much of a lake. There won't be much of a town either. But as Federal Wildlife, you already knew that."

Dean nodded eagerly. "Oh yeah. Of course."

The door opened behind them and they turned to see a young woman standing there. She was very plain Jane looking but in this town she might as well be Miss America, very girl next door looking and judging by Dean's posture, she was good enough.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized. "I'll come back later."

"Gentlemen and lady, this is my daughter," Jake said, motioning her into the room.

Of course Dean was first to put his hand out. "Hello, I'm Dean."

"Andrea Barr, hi," she said with a smile.

"They're here from the Wildlife Service about the Lake," her father said.

A small boy no older than seven walked around her into the room then.

"Well hi there," Dean said. "What's your name?"

He walked out of the room and Andrea followed him out.

"His name is Lucas," Jake said.

"Is he okay?" Bridget asked.

"My grandson's been through a lot. We all have. If there's anything else I can do for you, just let me know."

"Thanks," Dean nodded as they followed him out. "Now that you mention it you can point us in the direction of a hotel."

"Lakefront motel," Andrea said. "Go around the corner. Its two blocks down."

"Two?" Dean said. "Would you mind showing us?"

She laughed. "You want me to walk you two blocks?"

Bridget and Sam rolled their eyes.

"Not if it's any trouble," he smiled.

"I'm going that way anyway," she turned to her father. "I'll be back to get Lucas at three."

She walked out of the station and they were walking down the street, Sam and Bridget a little behind Andrea and Dean but still in earshot.

"So cute kid," Dean said.

"Thanks," she nodded.

"Kids are the best, huh?" Dean said.

Bridget snorted and turned it into a cough.

"There it is," Andrea pointed to the hotel. "Like I said. Two blocks."

"Thanks," Dean said.

She smiled as she started to walk away. "Must be hard with your sense of direction. Never being able to find a way to a decent pick up line."

Bridget laughed out loud now as she walked away. "Oh, I like her because you, Dean, are pathetic."

"Kids are the best," Sam repeated staring at Dean. "You don't even like kids."

"I love kids!"

Bridget folded her arms over her chest. "Name three kids you know."

Dean was silent biting his lip and Sam and Bridget exchanged a glance.

"I'm thinking!" he argued.

Bridget tossed her bag on a bed that she was sharing with Dean once again, in other words it would be a long night of blocking every pass he tried to make. Sam was currently busy on his laptop. "So besides the three drownings this year we have six more spread out over a 35 year period."

"So we got a lake monster on a binge?" Bridget asked and sat down on the end of the bed.

"The whole monster thing is bugging me," Sam said.

Dean frowned at the web page. "Christopher Barr. Where have we heard that?"

Sam read on. "He was one of the drowning victims. Andrea's husband. He took Lucas out swimming. Lucas was on a wooden platform when his dad drowned…it was two hours til he was rescued…looks like there was an eye witness after all."

"No wonder the kid was freaked out…watching your parent die isn't something you get over."

She touched the chain around her neck, "No, it's not. Poor kid…" She stood up, adjusting her top. "Looks like we're going to the park."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Andrea's there," she grabbed the room key and that was enough to get Dean out the door. With a chuckle Sam and her followed after the puppy dog.

Sam walked over to the bench Andrea was sitting on. "Mind if we join you?"

She pointed at Lucas sitting at a table coloring. "I'm with my son."

"Oh," Dean touched Bridget's arm. "Mind if we go talk to him." They walked over to Lucas. Dean sat up on the table while Bridget stood at the end of the table next to Lucas.

"Hey Lucas. I'm Bridget, this is my friend Dean," she smiled at him. He glanced at her and went back to coloring.

"So how's it goin'?" Dean asked him and picked up one of his toy soldiers. "I used to love these as a kid," he noticed Lucas was more into coloring. "Okay, you like coloring. That's cool. Chicks dig artist."

Bridget nodded, "Very true. We like sensitive guys."

Dean stuck his tongue at her and she looked over the drawings handing them to Dean. One was a giant swirly black thing, the other a red bike. "I like drawing too, I'm not so bad at it," he handed a paper and crayon to Bridget. "Neither is she." Dean drew on the paper. "You know. I think you can hear me. You just don't want to talk. I don't know exactly what happened to your dad, but I know it was something real bad. I think I know how you feel. When I was your age, I saw something. And Bridget, she can relate."

She nodded, drawing on her pad on paper. "Yeah, I lost my family a few years ago…something got them…not sure what it was though, just like you and I didn't tell anyone except Dean because it sounded crazy. But it didn't mean it wasn't real."

"Anyway," Dean continued. "Well maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or uh…or believe you. I want you to know that we will. You don't even have to say anything, you could draw me or Bridge a picture about what you saw that day with your dad on the lake. Okay, no problem. This is for you." He handed the picture to him. "That's me, my mom, my dad, and my geek brother…okay I suck at drawing."

Bridget handed hers to him, even in crayon Dean was impressed. It was a picture of her, Dean, and Sam, realistic looking too though it was in purple. "This is for you too…it's a rough sketch, but…this is me…and my new family now." She ruffled his hair as he looked at the drawings. "We'll see you later."

"I didn't know you could draw," Dean said in awe.

"I was going to school to be a fashion designer. You need art skills. Besides, you never bothered looking through my sketch book."

"What sketch book?"

She rolled her eyes. "The one I keep in the back seat and I draw in at least once a day."

"That's what you're doing. I thought you were writing."

She rolled her eyes, "You're unbelievable."

"Lucas hasn't said a word," Andrea was saying. "Not since his dad died."

"Yeah, we heard. Sorry," Dean said.

"What are the doctor's saying?" Sam asked.

"Post traumatic stress disorder."

"That can't be easy, for either of you," Bridget said.

"We moved in with my dad. He helps out a lot. It's just…when I think about what Lucas went through, what he saw…" Andrea trailed off.

"Kids are strong," Dean said. "You'd be surprised what they can deal with."

Lucas came running up to them then and handed Dean a picture, he glanced at it then back at the kid handing it to Bridget. "Thanks buddy…we better be going though. Got lots of work to do."

Back at the hotel, Dean was watching TV on the bed. Bridget had her sketch pad out, pencil moving swiftly across the pad as inspiration hit her, while Sam was out getting food. She glanced at Dean, hand moving over the paper without looking for a moment as she took in the details, though she'd drawn Dean quite a few times before. Still there was always something new she could find in him to reflect on paper. Him relaxing on the bed, not a thought in his mind was a rarity she had to capture.

Sam came in the room just as she was adding final touches and set the food bags on the table with the keys.

"So I think its safe to say we can rule out Nessie," Sam said.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked sitting up.

"I just drove past the Carlton house. There was an ambulance there. Will Carlton is dead."

Bridget set her sketch pad down. "He drowned?"

"Yep, in the sink," Sam said with a nod.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered. "So you're right. This isn't a creature. We're dealing with something else."

"Yeah," he sat down in a chair. "But what is it?"

"I don't know. A water wraith maybe. Some kind of demon? I mean something that can control water…from the same source."

"Like the lake," Bridget added on.

"Which would explain why it's upping the body count," Sam said. "The lake is draining. It'll be dry in a few months. Whatever this thing is, it knows it's running out of time."

"And if it can get through the pipes, it can get anyone, anywhere. This is going to happen again soon," Bridget said.

"And we do know one thing is for sure," said Sam. "We know this has got something to do with Bill Carlton."

"It killed both his kids," Dean nodded his head and grabbed at his car keys, then reached into the bag and grabbed a burger. "Let's go pay him a visit."

Mr. Carlton was sitting on the bench near the lake, grumpy with reason at them. "I don't care who you are. I've answered enough questions today."

"Your son said he saw something in the lake," Bridget asked. "What about you, Mr. Carlton? With Sophie and Will's death we think there may be a connection to your family."

"My children are gone," he said wearily, looking out over the lake. "It's…it's worse than dying…go away…please."

She nodded and they walked back to the car.

"What do you think?" Sam asked.

"I think the poor guy has been through hell," Dean admitted. "I also think he's hiding something."

Bridget stopped and looked at the house with a frown. "Maybe he's not the only one who knows something," she tapped Dean's arm and pointed at the house.

"I'll be damned," he took out the drawing Lucas made him from his jacket pocket. The Carlton house was identical to it.

After stopping by at Andrea's and getting another drawing from Lucas of a church, a town and a boy on a red bike in front of a yellow house, the three found themselves driving around town, looking for it.

"Andrea said Lucas never drew like that til his dad died," Bridget said from the back seat, holding the drawing out so the two could see it over the back of the front seat.

"So what if he's tapping into it somehow," Dean said.

"Looks like we have another house to find. It's the only lead we have," Sam admitted taking the drawing from Bridget.

"Only thing is there's a thousand yellow houses here," Dean muttered.

"Yeah," Bridget pointed out the window. "But that church looks unique."

Dean put the car in park in an empty slot and the three got out, looking at the church and at the drawing and there was a yellow house next door. "We have a match."

He knocked on the front door and an older lady answered and let them in after an introduction. "We're sorry to bother you ma'am," he apologized standing in the yellow painted living room. "But does a little boy live here. Might wear a blue baseball cap, ride a red bike."

"No, not for a long time. Peter's been gone 35 years. The police never – I never had any idea what happened, he just disappeared." Bridget tapped Dean's arm and pointed to the toy soldiers on the table.

"Did he disappear from here? The house?" Sam questioned.

"He was supposed to ride his bike straight home from school, he never showed up," she said.

Dean looked at a picture on the mantle and read the bottom "Peter Sweeney and Bill Carlton". He showed it to Sam and Bridget, the missing link of another puzzle. It was time to talk to ol' Bill again.

"Thank you for your time ma'am," Bridget said and hustled the boys out.

They were driving to Mr. Carlton's not two minutes later.

"Okay, this Sweeney kid vanishes, and it's connected to Bill Carlton somehow," Dean stated the obvious.

"Yeah, Bill sure as hell is hiding something," Bridget nodded in agreement.

"And Bill – the people he loves – are all being punished," Sam added.

"So what if Bill did something to Peter," Bridget asked.

"What if he killed him?" Dean asked.

"Then Peter's spirit would be furious. It'd want revenge," she answered as they pulled up to the Carlton house.

They walked around the back towards the lake. "Mr. Carlton!"

An engine sounded in the distance and they watched as Mr. Carlton drove his boat out onto the lake. "Oh God," Bridge muttered and the three ran towards the dock shouting.

"MR. CARLTON!" Dean yelled. "YOU GOTTA COME BACK!"

"DON'T GO OUT THERE!" Bridget shouted coming to a stop at the end of the dock, waving her arms.

"TURN THE BOAT AROUND!" Sam yelled.

It seemed to be to no avail and the three jumped startled as the boat was hit by a massive force that sent it into the air and crashing into the water, capsized, but there was no sign of Mister Carlton. Sometime during the explosion, Sam had put his arm protectively around Bridget and she grabbed on, never seeing anything like that before. It was one very pissed off ghost. And it had annihilated the entire Carlton family.

They were walking into the sheriff's office thirty minutes later, seeing Andrea and a very uncomfortable looking Lucas. "Sam, Dean, Bridget, what are you three doing here."

"So you're on a first name basis now?" her father asked her.

She held out a bag to her father, "I brought you dinner."

"I don't have time sweetheart."

"I heard about Bill, is something wrong with the lake?" she asked.

"Right now we don't know. Why don't you take Lucas home," he suggested.

Lucas whimpered and grabbed onto Bridget's arm with one hand, clutching Dean's with the other. "Hey, what's wrong, sweetheart?" Bridget asked him.

"It's okay, Lucas, it's okay," Dean reassured him.

Andrea managed to move her son from the two of them and take him outside. Once the door shut did the Sheriff start on them. "Okay let me get this straight…you see…something attack Bill's boat, who is a very good swimmer by the way, into the drink, and you never see him again?"

Dean nodded, "That about sums it up."

"And I'm supposed to believe this, even though I've already sonar-swept that entire lake, and what you're describing is impossible, and you're not really Wildlife Service? I called, they never heard of you three."

"Look we can explain," Sam started but he got cut off.

"The only reason you're all breathing free air is because a neighbor said she saw Bill drive his boat onto the lake. So we have a couple of options here. I can arrest you for impersonating government officials and hold you as material witnesses to Bill Carlton's disappearance. Or we can chalk this all up to a bad day, you get into your car, you put this town in your rearview mirror, and you don't ever darken my doorstep again."

"Door number two sounds good," Sam admitted.

"That's the one I'd pick," the Sheriff agreed.

It was dark out now as they were driving down the street, stopped at a light. Bridget rested her chin on the front seat, staring out at nothing just as Dean was. She imagined he was thinking of Lucas too. Of how scared that little boy was and how he clung to them, so afraid.

"Green, Dean. The light is green."

To even her surprise he turned left.

"Uh, Dean, the interstate is the other way," Sam said.

"I know," he said.

"Dean, the job is over," Sam said.

"I'm not so sure…"

"Neither am I," Bridget admitted.

"If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest," Sam said.

Bridget added in, "All right, Sam, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done. You know, what if we missed something? What if more people get hurt?"

"But why would you think that?"

Dean answered for both of them, "Because Lucas was really scared."

"That's what this is about?" he questioned.

"I just don't want to leave town till I know the kid's okay," he told him.

"I'm with you on that," she patted his shoulder.

"Okay, Dean, who are you and what have you done with my brother," Sam asked.

"Bite me," he said and parked outside Andrea's house.

"Are you sure about this? It's pretty late man."

"We just want to make sure he's okay," Bridget said, she reached out for the doorbell but the door flew open and Lucas stood there panting, alarming her. "Lucas? What's wrong?"

He grabbed her hand and hurried her up the stairs, Dean and Sam right behind her and pointed at the bathroom door where water was pouring out. He let go of her hand and pounded on the door.

"Shit," Dean muttered and hurried to the door. "Lucas, out of the way!"

Bridget was already pulling him back, hugging him to her while Dean kicked down the door. Bridget moved to go in but Lucas clung to her so she watched from the doorway as Sam and Dean both reached into the tub, trying to pull Andrea out. Finally Sam managed to pull her out of the tub and the three fell to the floor, Andrea coughing up water. Bridget handed Sam the robe she found on the back of the door to cover her up in, still holding onto Lucas.

They managed to get Andrea calmed down and dressed and downstairs after awhile, by that time the sun was coming up. Sam sat next to her on the couch while Bridget sat across from them with Lucas still attached to her as Dean went through scrapbooks and photo albums in one of his must find modes.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"No it doesn't make any sense," she said and started crying. "I'm going crazy?"

"No, you're not," Bridget said, running her fingers through Lucas's hair. He'd fallen asleep an hour ago.

"Tell us what happened," Sam asked her. "Everything."

"I heard…I thought I heard…there was this voice," she said.

"What did it say?"

"It said…come play with me," she said. "What's happening?"

Dean brought over a scrap book and pointed at one of the pictures. "Do you recognize the kids in this picture?"

"What?" she looked at it. "Umm…um, no. Except, that's my Dad right there. He must have been twelve when that was taken."

Dean held the picture to Bridget who managed to maneuver herself away from Lucas to see it, he awoke and sat up a moment. Andrea's father was standing right next to Peter Sweeney in the picture. "Chris Barr's drowning…the connection wasn't to Bill Carlton, it was the sheriff."

"Bill and the sheriff – they were both involved with Peter," Sam agreed.

"What about Chris?" she frowned. "My dad – what are you talking about?"

Bridget looked up and saw Lucas staring out the window. "Lucas? Lucas, what is it?" She moved over and crouched down next to him. He took her hand and she stood up, following him outside. He stopped next to a couple of trees and stared at the ground. She got the message so did Dean as he patted the kids shoulder. "Good work, kiddo." He looked at Andrea. "You and Lucas should go inside."

Bridget looked at Dean and Sam, "Looks like you and Sam got some digging to do."

"Aren't you going to help?" Sam asked as they grabbed shovels out of the nearby shed.

She shook her head, "I'm in a skirt and boots, not exactly digging clothes, besides, you strapping young men can work it out."

Both grumbled and started digging as she watched. They didn't get no more than three feet when there was a thud and Bridget helped them dig up the rest with her hands and pull up the dirty bike that was clearly red despite being buried for 35 years.

"Peter's bike," Sam said.

"Who are you?"

The three looked up, eyes wide as Jake, Andrea's father, stood there with his gun drawn on them. "Put the gun down, Jake," Dean said.

"How did you know that was there?" he asked angrily.

"So what happened? You and Bill kill Peter and bury his bike? Nothing stays buried, Jake," Bridget said.

He moved the gun to her, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You and Bill killed Peter 35 years ago, that's what we're talking about," Dean said and Sam took the opportunity to move in front of Bridget, slowly moving her behind him and out of the gun's way.

"DAD!" Andrea yelled as she came hurrying towards them.

"And now he's one pissed off spirit," Dean said.

Sam kept his arm around Bridget, keeping her back, "It's gonna take Andrea, Lucas, everyone you love. It's gonna drown them. And it's gonna drag their bodies God knows where, so you can feel the same pain Peter's mom felt. And then, after that, it's gonna take you, and it's not gonna stop until it does."

"Yeah, and how do you know that?"

"Because that's exactly what he did to Bill Carlton," Bridget answered from around Sam. Damn, he was tall even in her boots he had a good eight inches on her.

"Listen to yourselves," he said."You're insane!"

"I don't really give a rat's ass what you think of us. But if we're gonna bring down this spirit, we need to find the remains, salt them, and burn them into dust. Now tell me you buried Peter somewhere. Tell me you didn't just let him go in the lake."

"Dad, is any of this true?" Andrea asked.

"No, don't listen to them. They're liars and they're dangerous," he said.

"Look who's talking," Bridget snorted and Sam moved her behind him again though she fought to stay just behind his arm this time.

Andrea wasn't buying it, "Something tried to drown me. Chris died on that lake. Dad, look at me. Tell me you didn't kill anyone…" her father looked away from her and she put a hand to her mouth. "Oh my God."

"Billy and I were at the lake. Peter was the smallest one. We always bullied him, but this time…it got rough. We were holding his head under the water, we didn't mean to. But we held him under too long and he drowned. We let the body go, and it sank. Oh Andrea, we were kids. We were so scared. It was a mistake. But, Andrea, to say that I have anything to do with these drownings, with Chris, because of some ghost…it's not rational," he explained.

Dean spoke, "All right listen to me, all of you. We need to get you away from this lake as far as we can right now."

Bridget nodded and moved around Sam glancing towards the docks and grasped Sam's arm. Everyone noticed Lucas on the dock kneeling over to look at the water at the same time.

"LUCAS!" Jake shouted and the lot ran towards the deck just as he was putting his hand on the water.

"LUCAS!" Bridget shouted.

"Stay where you are, sweety!" Andrea called out. A hand reached out of the water, wrapped around Lucas's arm and pulled him in. "LUCAS!"

Dean dove into the water after him just as Andrea was taking off her jacket, Bridget grabbed her as Sam jumped in, "You stay here with me,"

"My son."

"I know, but it wants you too," she said and held onto the woman, watching the water.

"DADDY! NO!" Andrea shouted and she turned to see Jake walking into the water, calling out for Peter to take him and leave Lucas alone, that he was the one Peter wanted. Jake suddenly disappeared dragged down and Bridget had to hold her tighter. "DADDY! DADDY! NOOO!"

She stroked the woman's hair, holding onto her as she cried and watching the water for Sam and Dean, they had surfaced once each with no luck. She was hoping Jake's sacrifice would work and that Peter would be forgiving enough to let Lucas go. Sam came back up shaking his head and Andrea screamed, and would have fallen to her knees had Bridget not braced herself for that. Dean surfaced then, holding a coughing sputtering Lucas. Andrea gasped and moved to the edge to help pull him up and hugged him to her still crying but now in relief. Bridget gave her hand to Sam, helping him out of the water, getting wet in the process before helping Dean out and standing, nearly as soaked as the rest. Dean smiled and she followed his gaze to her chest, her black bra could be seen through the tan shirt.

"One word Dean and you go back in the lake," she warned him.

"It might almost be worth it," he mumbled. "Where's Jake?"

Bridget shook her head and looked out over the lake. "He's gone…"

Dean nodded, more serious now and wiped a hand over his face. "Let's go get some dry clothes," he looked at Bridge. "You can stay wet…"

She smiled and shoved him, causing him to fall back into the lake. "So can you."

They had their stuff packed, ready to leave the motel. Bridget put her sketchbook and book in the back seat and shut the door standing with the brothers. Andrea approached them. "Sam, Dean, Bridget."

"Hey," Dean smiled as they approached.

"We're glad we caught up with you," Andrea said and pointed to the tray Lucas was carrying. "We brought you guys some lunch. Lucas insisted on making the sandwiches himself."

"Oh sweet," Bridget smiled. "I'm a sandwich person."

"Can I give it to them now?" he asked his mom.

"Go for it," she said.

"Come on, Lucas, let's put this in the car," he said directing the boy on where to go.

Bridget watched them and stood near Sam. "So how are you holding up?"

"It's going to take a long time to sort through everything you know."

"Andrea, I'm sorry," Sam apologized.

"You guys saved my son. I can't ask for more than that. Dad loved me. He loved Lucas. No matter what he did, I just have to hold onto that."

Dean and Lucas came back from the other side of the car and Andrea walked to Dean and kissed him. "Thank you."

He managed to scratch the back of his head and clear his throat, "Sam, Bridge, move your asses. We're gonna run out of daylight."

They waved and took off down the road. Bridget sat in the back, sketching now, drawing the endless road through the windshield. Dean switched on his radio and noticed the fold of paper for the first time on his cassettes with the word Dean written on it in elegant writing. Glancing at the empty highway he unfolded the paper and found himself looking at a drawing of himself on the bed in the motel room watching TV. He smiled and glanced at the review mirror but Bridget was drawing. "You could have drawn me doing something more manly."

"What's more manly than you watching TV…or eating…I have a few in here of you eating."

"I want to see," Sam said twisting around after seeing her realistic sketch of Dean.

She glanced up putting her pencil behind her ear. "Okay, you can go through them."

She leaned across the seat so Dean could glance. There were three or four of Dean stuffing his face and he shook his head.

"So not me."

"Yeah right," Sam snorted and skimmed through the pages.

"I have more in my older sketch book, this one I bought two weeks ago so it's all newer stuff. Mostly landscapes," she told him and he turned a page and stopped on a drawing of himself on his laptop, detailed down to the stripes on his shirt.

"Wow, Bridge…" he said in awe.

"You were so away in your head I thought you wouldn't mind."

"I don't, it's great. My favorite is still the one of Dean eating a hamburger though. Very realistic."

"Oh, I have one of him eating a sandwich too, just as great. He's got the chipmunk cheeks and everything."

"Okay, very funny," Dean said sarcastically.

Sam laughed looking at it, "That's priceless."

"All right! Enough!" Dean said.

"And here's another," she scrolled through, leaning over across Sam to turn the page. "When he was eating all these pancakes, it was all you can eat. He took advantage."

"Will you two stop!" He said, but Bridget was skipping to another drawing. It was going to be a looonng car ride.


	3. Bloody Mary Ep 5

**DISCLAIMER: Once again episode 4 didn't have enough to add Bridget so I went straight into Bloody Mary where we get a little deeper into who Bridget is. **

**S1 EP5 BLOODY MARY**

Bridget was sketching again, glancing at Sam to finish the sketch. This was one of him sleeping, she liked drawing him when he was sleeping. There was something about the way he looked that just seemed so real. Her eyes moved up and she noticed he was having another of his nightmares as he started mumbling. She leaned over and shook him, "Sam. Sam, wake up."

He woke with a start and looked at Bridge then at Dean. "I take it I had a nightmare."

"Yup, another one," Dean nodded.

"Least I get some sleep."

"We're going to have to talk about this," Dean warned him.

Sam cut the question, "Are we here?"

"Yup, welcome to Toledo, Ohio."

"I'm so excited," Bridget mumbled, flipping her sketch book closed and brushing the hair from her face, glad she wore a long sleeved shirt today, grant it, the sleeves were lacy and it was off the shoulder and somewhat see through at the top, but sleeves nonetheless. She bought it from Victoria Secret after all.

Sam picked up the newspaper with the obituary. "So what do you think really happened to him?"

"We're about to find out," Dean said as he pulled into the morgue lot.

They walked inside down the tile hall that was dimly lit and as grave as one suspected it would be and into room 144. There was a man sitting behind a desk who looked up as they came in. "Hello."

"Hey," Dean nodded.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, we're the med students."

"Sorry?"

"Oh Doctor Figlavitch didn't tell you? We talked to him on the phone. We uh…We're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse. It's for our paper."

"Well, I'm sorry," he shrugged. "He's at lunch."

"Oh well he said uh…Oh well, you know, it doesn't matter. You don't mind showing us the body do you?"

"Sorry, I can't. Doc will be back in an hour, you can wait for him if you want."

"An hour? Ooo," Dean winced and looked at Sam and Bridget. "We have to get back to Columbus then don't we?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"Uh," Dean scratched his head and gave him the whole gee shucks smile. "This paper is half our grade, so if you don't mind helping us out."

"Please," Sam asked.

"Oh look man, no," he shook his head.

Dean turned to the two of them still smiling. "I'm gonna hit him in the face, I swear it."

Bridget smacked his arm and walked over to the desk, pulling her top down a bit more and leaning over, palms on the table. "Look, this is_ really_ important to us. I need an A in this class to graduate…you know how hard it is being a med student," she put a hand on his arm. His eyes were on her chest and she felt him shift in his seat. She was winning. "So, if you don't mind, can you show us the body? I'd really appreciate it…please," she bit her lower lip, giving him the pouty eyes and he cleared his throat, standing up.

"Follow me," he walked ahead.

She smiled and straightened up looking over her shoulder at Sam and Dean who were in awe. Dean shook his head, "You never do that to me."

"You don't have anything I want."

"How'd you do that?" Dean asked.

"They're called breasts. They get me whatever I want."

"No fair," he mumbled as the technician stopped in front of a table with a body draped in a sheet on it.

"Now the paper said his daughter found him, his eyes were bleeding," Dean said.

He pulled the sheet back from the body. "More than that, they were practically liquefied."

"Any sign of struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?" Bridget asked.

"Nope, besides the daughter he was alone," he said.

"What the official cause of death?" Sam asked.

He shrugged. "Doc's not sure. Massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? Something burst up in there, that's for sure."

"What do you mean?" Sam questioned.

"Intense cerebral bleeding," he answered. "This guy had more blood in his skull than I've ever seen."

"The eyes," Bridget asked, glancing at the body. "What would cause them to do that?"

"Capillaries can burst. See a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims."

"Yeah? You ever seen exploding eyeballs?" Dean asked.

"This is a first for me," he shook his head.

"Think we could see the police report? For our paper," Dean asked.

"I'm not supposed to."

Bridget grabbed Dean's wallet out of his back pocket without him noticing and took out a twenty. She handed it to the guy. "How about now?"

"No more skin?" he asked taking the money.

She snorted. "You've seen all you're going to see on me. Just like these two have."

Dean nodded, "She's not lying."

The guy sighed and showed them the report, they were out of there twenty minutes later and Bridget managed to put Dean's wallet back without him noticing.

"Might not be one of ours," Sam said as they walked down the stairs. "May just be a freak medical thing."

"How many time in dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?" Dean asked.

"Uhh…never."

"Exactly," Dean said.

"All right, let's go talk to the daughter," Sam said and got in the car with the others.

After being pointed in the right direction, the three walked over to where a group of girls sat in a circle. She was glad she'd worn black lacy shirt after all and the black boots that stopped below her knee helped distract that the skirt she wore was denim blue though she was aware of the looks she was getting.

Dean stopped in front of the girls and looked at the girl with the short dark hair. "Donna, I presume."

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Hi, uh, I'm Sam, this is Dean and Bridget, we worked with your dad," Sam said.

"You did?" Donna asked.

"Not me," Bridget shook her head. "I'm just with…him," she grabbed Sam's arm, noticing the blonde girl frown to the right.

"This whole thing," Dean shook his head. "I mean, a stroke."

"I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now," Charlie, the snotty looking blonde, said.

"No, it's okay. I'm okay," Donna said.

"Were there any symptoms? Dizziness? Migraine?"

"No," she shook her head.

"That's because it wasn't a stroke," the young dark haired girl to Donna's left said.

"Lily, don't say that," Donna told her.

"What?" Bridget asked.

"I'm sorry," Donna apologized. "She's just upset."

"Lily," Sam said and bent down to be at her eye level. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Right before he died, I said it," she sniffled.

"Said what?"

"Bloody Mary – three times in the bathroom mirror. She took his eyes, that's what she does."

"That's not why you're dad died," Bridget said ignoring the hatred stare from Charlie. "This isn't your fault."

Dean nodded. "There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary, Lily. Your dad didn't say it, did he?"

"No," she shook her head.

"There you go," he smiled but the look he gave Sam and Bridget told them it was time to go. They said their condolences once more and went back in the house and up the stairs down the hall to the bathroom. Sam pushed the door open and the stains of blood on the floor confirmed it was indeed the room he had died in.

"The Bloody Mary legend – did Dad ever find anything on it?" Sam asked.

"Not that I know of," Dean shook his head looking around.

"I mean everywhere else in the country kids play Bloody Mary and nothing happens," he said.

"Well maybe everywhere else it's just a story but it's happening here," Bridget said, examining the blood stains.

"The place where it began? But according to the legend the person who says," he paused in front of the cabinet mirror and Bridget smiled at his skiddishness as she stood back up, "The person who says you know what gets it."

"But here Shoemaker gets it instead," Dean nodded.

"Right," Sam nodded.

"Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, "you know who" scratches your eyes out," Dean said.

"Worth checking out," Bridget nodded and they heard foot steps coming down the hall, too close to run for it.

It was Charlie and she looked more lethal and angry. "What are you doing?"

"We had to use the bathroom," Dean said.

"Who are you?"

"Like we said downstairs we worked with Donna's dad."

"Donna's dad was a day trader or something. He worked alone," she snipped.

"No, I know, I meant-."

She cut Dean off, "And all those weird questions downstairs," she said.

Bridget held her hands up calmly. "Look, we didn't come here to start a fight and we don't want any problems."

"And you bring this trashy whore to the funeral."

Bridget's smile became hard, "Now I got a problem, little girl," she took a step forward and Sam put his arm around her pulling her back, knowing she could do real damage.

"Who are you guys? If I don't get answers, I'll start screaming."

"All right, all right," Sam said, still keeping on arm out to hold Bridge back. "We think something happened to Donna's dad."

"Yeah, a stroke."

"No," he shook his head. "That's not a sign of a typical stroke. We think it might be something else."

"Like what?" Charlie asked.

"Honestly? We don't know yet. But we don't want it to happen to anyone else. That's the truth," Sam said.

"So if you're going to scream go right ahead," Dean said.

"And I can give you plenty of reason," Bridge muttered and Sam nudged her.

"Who are you? Cops?"

"Something like that," Dean said.

"I'll tell you what, here," Sam took out a piece of paper and wrote a number down handing it to her. "If you think of anything call us. If you notice anything strange or out of the ordinary." The three walked down the hall, Sam more or less guiding Bridget from strangling the girl.

"I'm gonna kill her."

"No you're not," Sam told her.

"Not a lot, just a little," she growled.

"Save it tiger," Dean told her. "We got work to do."

Bridget sat drawing in her sketchbook again, this time sketching out what she had seen in a dream. A car with scratches in the side and a man with a hook for a hand. Yet another urban legend, but she wasn't so sure. After all, she'd been having weird dreams since she was a little girl, things that happened later on, but she never saw anything drastic which she took for a good sign. It wasn't nearly as weird as what she could do with objects. She found that whether consciously or not she could move things, especially if she was emotional. Just like she had started to move the gun when she and Sam were trapped by crazy ghost lady. She wasn't good at it though and it wasn't something she'd admit to. The only people who'd known about it were long dead.

Sam whimpered on the bed, causing her eyes to move up as his opened, startled from a dream, he glanced at Dean. "Why did you let me sleep?"

"Because I'm an awesome brother," he said monotone.

"What did you dream about?" Bridget asked.

"Lollipops and candy canes," he muttered.

"Yeah, right. And I dream of Santa," she snorted and closed her sketch book.

"Did you find anything?" he asked sitting up.

"Besides a whole new level of frustration," Dean shook his head, plopping the papers on the table. "No, we've looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Katherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave but no Mary."

Sam fell back on the bed, running a hand over his face. "Maybe we just haven't found it yet."

Bridget pulled out the papers she printed out earlier. "I researched strange deaths in the area, everything from eyeball bleeding to no eyes and I got nothing."

Sam's phone rang then and he answered it. "Hello?" Dean and Bridge waited and saw Sam's face turn grave, never a good thing. He hung up and looked at them. "Let's go."

They were at the park now, sitting on a bench with a crying Charlie, no longer her bitchy self and no comments on Bridget's red halter top. She couldn't blame her, her friend was dead. No eyes just like Shoemaker.

"And they found her on the bathroom floor in front of the mirror," she cried. "She-she had no eyes."

"I'm sorry," Sam said.

"And she said it," she looked up at them. "I heard her say it. But it couldn't be because of that. I'm insane, right?"

Bridget sighed, "It's sad when insanity is the plus side…but you're not insane."

"Oh God," she buried her face in her hands. "That makes me feel worse."

"Look," Sam tried to explain. "We think something's happening here. Something that can't be explained."

"And we're gonna stop it but we could use your help," Dean told her.

"Tell me again why I'm sneaking into another girl's room," Bridget said.

"Because the thought makes me hot and bothered," Dean said.

She hit him in the arm and he shut up, rubbing the spot.

Charlie opened the window a second later and Bridget went in last, expertly hopping in without flashing her underwear, Britney Spears would be jealous.

"What did you tell Jill's mom?" Bridget asked.

"Just that I needed some time alone with Jill's things," she said. "I hate lying to her."

"Welcome to our world," Bridget muttered.

"Trust us, this is for the greater good," Dean told her. "Hit the lights."

Charlie flipped the switch, "What are you guys looking for?"

Bridget hit a few buttons on her video camera, turning it into night vision. It was easier to see things that shouldn't be seen that way. "We'll let you know soon as we find it."

Bridget turned the camera to Dean. He puckered his lips, "Do I look like Paris Hilton?"

"Oh yeah, just as pretty to," she said moved over to the closet Sam opened for her so she could film around the mirror.

"So I don't get it," Sam said. "The first victim didn't summon Mary, and the second did. How's she choosing them?"

"Beats me," Dean shrugged his shoulders.

Sam closed the door and pointed Bridget towards the bathroom.

"I want to know why Jill said it in the first place," Dean said.

"It was just a joke," said Charlie.

"Yeah well somebody is going to say it again, it's just a matter of time."

Bridget frowned filming the mirror, "What the hell?" she patted Sam's chest since he stood behind her. "Sam, look…what is that?"

He frowned leaning over to look in the monitor display, at whatever was oozing from behind it. "Hey, there's a black light in the trunk right?"

Sam took the mirror off the wall and laid it face down on the bed, scrolling the black light over it where a name came up 'Gary Bryman' a long with a handprint.

"Anyone know who Gary Bryman is?" Bridget asked.

Charlie shook her head, "No."

"I'll find out then," she said and was already crawling out the window back to the car where her laptop was.

After figuring it out they were sitting on a park bench again as she read off the paper she printed. "Gary Bryman was an eight year old boy killed two years ago in a hit and run. The car was a black Toyota Camry. But nobody got the plates or saw the driver."

"Oh my God," Charlie gasped, a hand to her mouth.

"What?" Sam asked her.

"Jill drove that car."

Dean, Sam and Bridget shared look all thinking the same thing. "We need to get back to Donna's house."

Minutes later they were upstairs in the bathroom that Shoemaker died in. Dean had the black light in hand and scanning the mirror. There was a handprint and the name Linda Shoemaker.

"Linda Shoemaker," Sam sighed and they went downstairs to talk to Donna.

"Why are you asking me this?" Donna asked on the defense.

"Look, we're sorry, but it's important," Bridget said, she really didn't care about hurting feelings 85% of the time, especially when it meant saving others.

"Yeah. Linda is my mom okay," she admitted. "She overdosed on sleeping pills, it was an accident, that's it. I think you should leave."

"Now Donna, just listen," Dean started but she cut him off.

"GET OUT!" She screamed and ran up the stairs, a door slammed two seconds later.

"Oh my God, you think he killed her mom," Charlie caught on.

"Maybe," Sam nodded.

"I think I should stick around," she said and gestured up the stairs.

"Okay, but whatever you do," Dean warned her.

"I won't say it, believe me."

Sam had his computer booted up and Dean and Bridget hovered nearby waiting to see what he found. "So we're doing a nationwide search?" Sam asked as he typed at the computer.

"Yep," Dean nodded. "The NCIC. The FBI. At this point any Mary who died in front of a mirror could be our ghost."

"But if she's haunting the town she should be in the town," Sam said.

"I'm telling you there's nothing local," Dean shook his head. "Me and Bridget checked, so unless you've got a better idea."

"The way Mary's choosing her victims, it does seem to be a pattern."

"I was thinking the same thing," Bridget said.

"With Mr. Shoemaker, then Jill," Sam added.

"Both had secrets where people died," concluded Bridget.

"Right. I mean there's a lot of folklore about mirrors-that they reveal all your lies, all your secrets, that they're a true reflection of your soul, which is why it's bad luck to break them," Sam explained.

"Right, right. So maybe if you've got a secret, I mean like a really nasty one where someone died, then Mary sees it, and punishes you for it," Dean nodded.

"Whether you're the one that summoned her or not," Bridget said.

"Take a look at this," Dean pointed at the screen at a picture of a woman lying in a puddle of blood near a mirror. He printed out a page of a mirror with a handprint and the word Tre.

"Looks like the same handprint," Sam said.

"Her name was Mary Worthington," Dean said and grabbed his car keys. "An unsolved murder in Fort Wayne, Indiana."

"Looks like we're going for a car ride," Bridge sighed.

Little over three hours later they were sitting across from an old gentleman, "I was on the job for 35 years-detective for most of that. Now everybody packs it in with a few loose ends, but the Mary Worthington murder—that one still gets me."

"What exactly happened?" Bridget asked.

"You guys said you were reporters?" he questioned.

Sam nodded, "We know Mary was 19, lived by herself. We know she won a few local beauty contests, dreamt of getting out of Indiana, being an actress. And we know the night of March 29th someone broke into her apartment and murdered her, cut out her eyes with a knife."

"That's right," he nodded.

"See sir, when we asked you what happened, we wanted to know what you think happened," Sam restated.

"I think Mary was trying to spell out her killer's name," the detective said.

"Do you know who it was?" she asked.

"Not for sure," he shook his head. "But we thought it was Trevor Sampson. And he cut her up good."

"Now why would he do something like that?" Sam asked.

"Her diary mentioned a man she was seeing. She called him T and said she was going to tell his wife about the affair."

"How do you know it was Sampson?" Dean questioned.

"It's hard to say but the way her eyes were cut out…it was too professional."

"But you could never prove it," Bridget added.

"No. No prints. No witness."

"Is he still alive?"

"No," he shook his head.

"Where's she buried?" Dean asked.

"She wasn't. She was cremated."

"What about the mirror?" Dean asked.

"It was returned to Mary's family a long time ago."

"You have the name's of her family by any chance?" Sam questioned.

Dean hung up his phone as they were driving back. "Go figure, the brother sold the mirror a week ago."

"So wherever the mirror goes, Mary goes," Sam said.

"Her spirit is definitely tied up with it."

"Isn't there an old superstition that says mirrors can capture spirits?" Bridget asked from the back seat leaning forward.

Sam nodded, "Yeah there is. Yeah, when someone would die in a house people would cover up the mirrors so the ghost wouldn't get trapped."

"So Mary dies in front of a mirror and it traps her in it," Dean said.

"Yeah but somehow she can move through like a hundred mirrors."

"I don't know but the mirror is the source," Dean said."I say we find it and smash it."

"Maybe," Sam nodded and his cell phone went off. He answered it, getting a hysterical Charlie. He hung up after a few minutes. "Donna said Bloody Mary with Charlie in the room…she's after her."

They were in Charlie's room twenty minutes later while the scared girl had her eyes squeezed shut and buried in her drawn up knees. Bridget was helping Dean turn things around and cover up mirrors, drawing curtains shut so no glass faced her. Sam sat next to her on the bed. "Charlie, it's okay now. You can open your eyes." Very slowly the girl lifted her head and did so. "Now listen. You're gonna stay right here on this bed, and you're not gonna look at glass, or anything else that has a reflection, okay? And as long as you do that, she cannot get you."

"I can't keep that up forever," she shook her head.

"We need to know what happened," Bridget said sitting on the bed.

"We were in the bathroom. Donna said it."

"That's not what we're talking about," Bridget said slowly."Why is she after you?"

Charlie wiped at her eyes, "I had this boyfriend. I loved him. But he kind of scared me too, you know? And one night, at his house, we got in this fight. Then I broke up with him, and he got upset, and he said he needed me and he loved me, and he said "Charlie, if you walk out that door right now, I'm gonna kill myself." And you know what I said? I said "Go ahead." And I left. How could I say that? How could I leave him like that? I just…I didn't believe him, you know? I should have."

They were driving twenty minutes later, Sam shaking his head. "You know her boyfriend killing himself isn't her fault."

"You know demons and spirits don't see shades of gray," Bridget told him and counted on her fingers. "Someone died and she had a secret, it's all Mary needs."

"I've been thinking, it may not be enough to smash the mirror," Sam said.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Well Mary's hard to pin down, right? I mean she moves around from mirror to mirror so who's to say that she's not just gonna keep hiding in them forever? So maybe we should try to pin her down, you know, summon her to her mirror and then smash it."

"How do you know that's going to work?" said Bridget.

"I don't."

"Well who's going to summon her?" Dean asked.

"I will. She'll come after me."

Bridget shook her head and rested it on the front seat as Dean let out an irritated sigh. "You know what that's it," he pulled the car over. "This is about Jessica, isn't it? You think that's your dirty little secret that you killed her somehow? Sam, this has got to stop, man. I mean, the nightmares and calling her name out in the middle of the night—it's gonna kill you. Now listen to me—It wasn't your fault. If you wanna blame something, then blame the thing that killed her. Or hell, why don't you take a swing at me? I mean I'm the one that dragged you away from her in the first place."

"I don't blame you," Sam said.

"You can't blame yourself because there's nothing you could have done," Dean said. Bridget was fumbling with her necklace again.

"I could've warned her," he said.

"About what? You didn't know this was going to happen. And besides, all of this isn't a secret. I know all about it and so does Bridge. It won't work with Mary."

Bridget bit her lower lip…she'd work…her secret would work. She could've warned her brother, she had seen in it a dream…she had a drawing to prove it, one she had drawn weeks before it happened. She had known better than to brush anything off as just a dream even back then and Sam and Dean had no idea.

"You don't know all about it, I haven't told you everything," Sam said.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.

"Well it wouldn't be a secret if I told you then would it?"

"No, I don't like it," Dean said.

"Dean that girl back there is going to die unless we do something about it. And you know what? Who knows how many more people are gonna die after that? Now we're doing this. You've got to let me do this."

Dean sighed and they kept driving until they reached the shop and it was dark out. "Great," he sighed staring around the mirror shop. "Let's start looking."

Mirror after mirror and nothing, "Maybe they sold it."

Sam's flashlight stopped on a mirror, "I don't think so."

Dean took out the picture, "That's it…you sure about this."

Sam nodded, "Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary." Dean handed him a crowbar before noticing the headlights outside. "Crap, smash anything that moves and watch your backs."

"You should leave, Bridge," Sam warned her.

"No," she said. "I'm staying…she'll want me too."

Sam smashed a mirror suddenly and Bridget jumped slightly. She hadn't seen anything. "Come on, come in this mirror," Sam muttered. Bridget stared at the other mirrors only seeing her reflection. She heard Sam gasp and saw his eyes had started bleeding but his reflection was completely still, almost menacing.

"Sam!" she took a step towards him and froze, not because she saw Bloody Mary in the mirror, not even her own reflection, it was her brother. Derek was staring back at her in a mirror and she couldn't move.

"Bridget…" he said. "You can't save anyone…everyone you care for dies…"

She shook her head.

"You're cursed, Bridget…you see it in your dreams, you see things happen…but you didn't stop it, you let us die…"

She shook her head feeling her eyes hurt. She saw Sam fall to the ground heard his reflection blaming him for Jessica's death because of his dreams…he had seen her die in his dreams…Bridget gasped at the thought. She looked back at the reflection that was now hers, feeling a trail of blood fall from her left eye. "You let them die…"

"I tried to save them…more than I can say for you," she brought her boot up, smashing it into the mirror and falling to her knees, gasping as the pressure was released from her head. Dean smashed the mirror in front of Sam at the same time, crouching down next to his brother. "Sam. Sammy?"

"It's Sam," he croaked.

"Are you okay?" Bridget asked him, wiping at her eye. She only had a trickle, he had a river.

"Uh yeah," Sam nodded and Dean and Bridge helped him stand. They started walking out when they heard a noise and turned around seeing Mary standing there. Bridget shut her eyes in a split second but heard Dean and Sam fall to the ground.

Bridget reached out blindly and grabbed a mirror next to her, facing it at Mary and hiding behind it to open her eyes.

"You killed them! All those people," she heard the reflection say and heard Mary choke. She peeked around the mirror and watched her melt into a pile of blood. She put the mirror back down and stared at Sam and Dean. "Laying down on the job I see."

She bent down and helped them up, wiping at the blood on Dean's face with her sleeve. "So, you guys have what? 600 years bad luck?" she asked walking out of the shop with them. Bridget glanced at the unconscious police officers.

Dean shook his head, "I'll tell you later. Let's get out of here."

"Can I drive?" she asked. "I have the less amount of blood on my face."

Dean nodded and handed her the keys. Grinning, Bridget got in the drivers' seat and they took off back in Ohio in record time and at Charlie's at day break. They were all standing outside at the moment.

"So it's over?" the blonde asked.

"Yeah, it's over," Bridget nodded.

"Thank you," she smiled and turned to head inside.

"Charlie," Sam called out and she stopped. "Your boyfriend's death…you really should try to forgive yourself. No matter what you did, you probably couldn't have stopped it. Sometimes bad things just happen."

She nodded and walked inside and they got back in the car, driving off. Dean nudged Sam's shoulder. "That was good advice. Maybe you should listen to it."

"Yeah."

"Now that it's all over, you wanna tell me what that secret was."

Sam glanced at Dean not noticing Bridget watching him intently. "Look…you're my brother and I'd die for you, but there are some things I need to keep to myself."

His eyes moved to Bridget and he noticed the way she was staring at him that made him uncomfortable. Bridget could tell that Sam knew she knew his secret or at least suspected it.

"So Bridge?" Dean pulled her from her daze. "Why were your eyes bleeding?"

She glanced down at her old sketch book, the drawing of the house on fire and the shadowy dead figure on the lawn with another crouched over it, a different shadow with dark glowing eyes disappearing into shadow. The date on it revealing the future two weeks in advance, just as she'd been able to do all her life. Just as her brother was different like her. "It was from thinking of you naked."

"Ha ha, funny."

"Gave me nightmares and everything. My eyes hurt thinking about it."

"You're a real comedian."

"Don't I know it," she pulled out her book and opened it up to where she stopped, putting her sketchbook away. "Where we going now?"

"No idea yet, we'll see what we find," Dean said and turned up the radio. Bridget stuck to reading her book but kept glancing at Sam. It was going to be one hell of a conversation once she got him alone.


	4. Hook Man Ep 7

**S1 EP7 HOOK MAN**

Two weeks after skin dude and Dean's "funeral" since the skin walker decided to take his appearance they were finally far enough away to be recognized or for Dean to be. But that's where lies worked because Dean was dead…technically. Yet he sat across from her at the table in the coffee shop working on the laptop while she read her book.

Sam came back in from talking on the pay phone and sat down with them. Dean pointed at his coffee, "Your, uh, half caf, double vanilla latte is getting cold here, Francis."

"Bite me," he retorted.

"Anything on John?" Bridget asked.

Sam shook his head. "I had them check the FBI Missing Persons , no John Doe fitting his description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations. Not a thing."

"Sam, I'm telling you, I don't think Dad wants to be found," Dean said. "Check this out though," he turned the computer around so they could see the article. It's a news piece from Ankeny, Iowa. Its about a hundred miles from here."

Sam read from it, "The mutilated body was found near the victim's car, parked on 9 Mile Road."

"Keep reading."

"Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible."

"Could be something interesting?" Dean said.

"Or it could be nothing at all," Bridget said drinking her caramel macchiato. "Could be a freaked out witness who didn't see anything. I mean, an invisible man?"

"But what if it is?"

Bridget shrugged. "We got nothing else going for us, might as well," she said and they packed up heading to the car.

Bridget's eyes widened as they pulled up in front of the frat house. She spun her head to Dean, her hair flying in her face, bangs falling in her eyes. "Tell me why we're here?"

"The victim lived here," he said.

"A frat house," she hissed and got out of the car feeling the eyes on her. She was very aware of them taking her in since she wore her usual denim skirt and black below the knee boots this time with a boat neck black top and a spaghetti strap black top under it. They went upstairs to the room the victim shared with a guy who was currently painting himself purple in front of a mirror. Must have been game day, she was guessing remembering her college days.

"Who are you?"

"Friends," Dean said to a shirtless frat boy.

"Oh, could you help me paint my back? It's game day?" he asked holding the paint can out.

Dean handed it to Sam, "He'll do it, he's great at art."

Sam sent him a withering look but took the paint bucket.

"So is it true?" Bridget asked, sounding dingy and clueless, popping her gum. "Did a guy get like killed here last week?"

"Yeah," the guy nodded.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"They're saying some psycho with a knife. Maybe a drifter. Rich was a good guy."

"Wasn't he dating somebody?" Sam asked again.

"Not just somebody," he snorted. "Lori Sorenson."

"Who's Lori?" Bridget questioned.

"Lori's a freshman. She's super hot," he looked Bridget over. "Not that you don't give her a run for her money though. She's the reverends daughter."

"Which church?" Dean asked.

Bridget stared at the church, she shook her head as they went inside to hear the end of the sermon. This was not her day with this outfit. She was seriously going to have to start wearing jeans or swap her knee highs for her mid calf highs because this was ridiculous. They approached the front of the church where a plain jane girl stood in a blouse with a green vest over it. Definitely the reverends daughter type.

"Are you Lori?" Sam asked her.

"Yes," she nodded.

"My name is Sam, this is my brother Dean and our friend Bridget," he introduced them.

"We just transferred here," Bridget said.

"We heard about what happened and…"

"We wanted to say we were sorry," said Dean.

Bridget smiled sadly. "I know what you're going through…I saw someone get hurt once…" she touched the ring on her necklace. "It's not something you forget easily."

The reverend walked up then and Lori tucked her hair behind her ear. "Dad, this is, um, Sam, Dean, and Bridget. They're new students."

"Great sermon today," Dean told him.

"Thank you," he said. "It's so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord's message."

Dean glanced at them and moved with the Reverend to give them time to talk to her, "So um, were new in town and looking for a church group."

"Tell me, Lori, what did the police say?" Sam asked once her dad was out of earshot.

"Well they don't have a lot to go on," she said. "They blame me for that I think."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"My story. I was so scared I was seeing things."

"That doesn't mean it wasn't real," Bridget told her and Lori looked at her for a moment. She saw Dean coming back with the Reverend. "It doesn't mean you were seeing things."

"So you guys believe her?" Dean asked as they sat in the library now.

Bridget nodded her head, "Uh huh."

"I do," Sam agreed.

"Yeah, I think she's hot, too."

"Dean, anything with a pulse and of the female gender turns you on," Bridget reminded him.

"Are you jealous?" he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Oh so very," she mumbled, reading through some articles.

"There was something in her eyes," Sam said. "And she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car."

Bridget's head shot up and she grabbed her carry bag that she stuffed her drawing pad in.

"Wait," Dean said. "That sounds like…"

"The Hook Man legend," Sam filled in.

"That's one of the most famous urban legends ever," Dean said.

"Every urban legend has a source."

Bridget found the drawing she was looking for. "Did the car have a scratch mark on the side? And were the tires scratched out?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"Was it on an empty road…with trees and was it a Honda, dark red?"

"Yeah…how'd you know?"

Bridget slid her sketch pad across to him, "I drew that weeks ago."

Dean frowned looking it over, it was identical to the car down to the detail. "Bridge, how'd you do this?"

She ran her fingers through her hair, chewing her lower lip. "It just came to me. I just drew it," she lied a little.

"You drew the future?" Dean asked.

She shrugged, "I can't tell it's going to happen…I just get snippet dreams and I draw them sometimes and sometimes…I come across them."

Sam looked at her, "How long have you been doing this?"

"Long as I can remember," she shrugged.

"You never told me," Dean said.

"Why do you think my eyes bled during our Mary search?"

He pushed it back to her, "From now on, don't hide this."

"I can't tell what's a dream and what's not Dean and I can't stop any of it. It's just a flash and that's it, it pretty much tells me I'm going in the right direction and that's that."

"So we were supposed to come here?" he asked.

She shrugged, "Maybe. I don't know."

Sam was oddly quiet during everything, staring at Bridget. She had dreams too…and she had known he did but never said anything, never let him know the truth.

The librarian dropped off a huge box onto their table."Here you go. Arrest records dating back to 1851."

Dean blew at the box, coughing as the cloud of dust flew up in the air. "Thanks."

"Ok," she walked away leaving them to their work.

Dean opened the box, "So this is how you college people spent your time?"

"Welcome to higher education," Sam told him. After an hour of reading through papers after papers Sam tapped Dean's shoulder and Bridget leaned over to see what he had. "Hey, check this out. 1862. A preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes. Uh, right here, "some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh."

Bridget skimmed through another page, "Get this, the murder weapon. Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. He had it replaced with a silver hook."

Sam pointed at another page, "Look where it all happened."

Dean read it over, "9 Mile Road…Bridge, looks like your drawing talents are coming in handy."

"Let's check it out," Bridge said and grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair.

Dean opened the trunk of the car after they parked and handed Sam a rifle. Bridget cleared her throat holding her hand out.

"Yes?" Dean asked.

"Where's my gun?"

"You don't need a gun."

"Why not?" she asked hands on her hips now.

"Because you have us, just stay close…this is 9 Mile Road you know…staying close is what people do up here," he flashed her a grin.

"In that case, I'll stay close to Sam. He'll at least watch my back which is seven or eight inches above my ass," she retorted.

"Buckshot won't do much against them," Sam said.

"It's not, it's rock salt," she told him.

"Salt being a spirit deterrent," Sam said.

"Yeah, it won't kill them, but it'll slow 'em down," Dean said.

"That's pretty good, you and Dad think of this?" he asked.

Dean gestured at Bridget, "Actually, Bridge gave us the idea when we met her. It's what she had in her gun."

"And I don't even get a gun," she mumbled.

They heard something move amongst the trees and froze, Sam raising his gun.

"Over there," Bridget pointed, whispering.

The trees moved again and a police sheriff came out from the trees, gun raised. "Put your gun down! Now!"

"W-w-wait, okay, okay!" Dean said, holding his hands up in defense and set his gun down.

"Now get down on your knees," he ordered. "Come on, do it! On your knees."

"Dean, I swear to God you make a joke and _I'll _shoot you," she whispered to him, noticing his smirk.

"On your stomachs, move!"

Bridget did so but pointed at the brothers, "Sam had the gun…sheesh."

Luckily enough, an hour later they were leaving the police station and Bridget was glad enough not to get frisked. Dean smiled at Sam, "I saved your ass. Talked the Sheriff down to a fine."

"How?" Bridget asked.

"I told him you were a dumbass pledge and we were hazing you," he said.

"What about me?"

"Oh, easy. Told him you were my date and you came along for the thrill," he said and she rolled her eyes.

"What about the gun?"

"I said you were hunting ghosts and spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know, typical Hell Week prank."

"And he believed you?"

"Well, yeah, you look like a dumbass pledge and Bridget looks easy in her outfit."

She smacked his arm for the comment and was getting ready to say something when several police cars took off. They exchanged a look and headed towards the car.

They parked across from the sorority house, watching the ambulance and seeing Lori sitting in the backseat wrapped in a blanket in shock. They got out of the car and walked around the back of the house.

Sam shook his head, "Why would the Hook Man come here? This is a long way from 9 Mile Road."

"Maybe he's not haunting the scene of the crime…maybe he's haunting something else," Bridget suggested and paused in front of a window that was partially open, she boosted herself up climbing up onto the balcony with Sam's help. Dean gave her a push and smiled up at her.

"Boy shorts? Took you for a thong girl," he said, Bridget made sure her foot slipped and hit him in the shoulder.

"Whoops," she said and swung over, reaching down to help Sam up then Dean. Sam pushed the window open and slid through, Bridget gestured Dean to go next. "No more peeking, you go."

Dean tisked and went through, slipping and falling on Sam. "Oh sorry," he apologized as Bridget got in.

"Be quiet!" Sam hissed at him.

"You be quiet."

"You be quiet!"

"You _both_ be quiet," she hissed at them.

Sam moved closer to the bedroom door and peaked out, watching the Sheriff walk downstairs leaving the area. He shut the door once it was safe.

"'Aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light?'" Bridget read the blood painted words from the wall.

"That's right out of the legend," Sam said.

"Yeah, that's classic Hook Man all right. Definitely a spirit," Dean nodded scrunching his nose at the smell.

"Yeah, I've never smelled ozone this strong before," Sam frowned at the window. "Hey, come here." Bridget and Sam crossed over to him and saw the cross symbol beneath the writing on the wall. "Does that look familiar to you?"

"Yeah…I got the files in the car," Bridget said and headed out the window with the boys following her to the car where she grabbed the folder. Sam held out his cell phone with the picture of the symbol he took on the screen and Bridget held up the printed out copy. "It's the same symbol."

"Looks like it is the spirit of Jacob Karns," Sam said.

"All right, let's find the dude's grave, salt and burn the bones and put him down," Dean said with a firm nod.

Bridget's face fell a bit, "Uh oh, 'After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in Old North Cemetery…in an unmarked grave." She rubbed at the bridge of her nose and Sam shook his head.

"Super," Dean muttered annoyed with it.

"Okay, we know that it's Jacob. But we still don't know where he'll manifest next or why," Sam said.

"If I was to take a guess I'd say Lori has something to do with it," Dean assumed and they got into the car. Bridget had grabbed a flair off the car as she got in.

"Anyone up for a party tonight?" she held the flyer out to them. "If Lori's there Jacob might follow."

Few hours later they were at the frat hall party. Bridget hadn't bothered changing, for once her clothes fit in at the scene, she had just merely taken off the boat neck top and left the other one on.

"Man, you've been holding out on me," Dean grinned. "This college thing is awesome," he winked at a girl that passed by.

"This wasn't really my experience."

"Go figure," Bridget snorted.

"You partied?"

She nodded with a shrug. "Occasionally. My brother did it in his day, Will and I would go to a couple parties here and there…do some shots…have a few drinks…wind up passed out on a table or bench or slide somewhere…"

"Kinky," Dean said.

"Not in your dreams."

"I didn't care for it much," Sam said.

"Let me guess," Dean said. "Libraries, studying, straight A's."

Sam nodded.

"Hey I did the library thing too," Bridget argued. "I got kicked out of one too, though so it balanced out."

"Why were you kicked out?"

"There are janitor's closets in the library…and sometimes a girl and her boyfriend get bored of studying statistics."

"Nice…did you guys at least do your homework today without hanky panky?"

Bridget rolled her eyes and Sam answered."Yeah, it was bugging me. How is Hook Man tied to Lori? So we came up with something," Sam unraveled a paper.

"1932," Dean read. "Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage."

"There's a pattern here," Bridget said. "In both cases the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immortality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out – get this – with a sharp instrument."

"What's the connection to Lori?" Dean asked.

Bridget let her arms flap down to her sides, irritated. "You explain it. It's like talking to a wall."

"A man of religion, Dean? Who openly preaches against immortality? Except this time instead of saving the whole town maybe he's just trying to save his daughter."

"Reverend Sorensen. You think he's summoning the spirit?" he asked.

"Maybe, or, you know how a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place?"

"Yeah, the spirit latches onto the reverend's repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay."

"Without the reverend knowing it," Bridget added.

"Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight."

"What are you going to do?" Bridget asked him.

"I'm gonna go see if I can find an unmarked grave," he looked at the pretty blonde across the way and hung his head. "Bridget, I don't suppose you're up for digging?"

"Gosh, as fun as that sounds I'll stay here," she said and watched Dean slunker off. "So we go to the Reverend's house?"

Sam nodded, "That we do and we can talk along the way."

Bridget put her hands in her pockets, "Okay. How bout them Lakers?"

"You know what I want to talk about."

She sighed, "There is nothing going on between me and your brother, he can make all the sexual passes he wants but I won't sleep with him."

"That's not it, Bridge."

"Fine, I stole the cookie from the cookie jar. It was me. I admit it. I also took twenty bucks out of Dean's wallet."

"Do you always deflect serious conversation with humor and sarcastic remarks?"

"Maybe."

"Why didn't you tell me you had dreams of things that haven't happened?"

"Same reason I never told Dean or John."

"And that would be?" he asked.

"It's none of your business."

He touched her arm. "But you knew I was having them too."

"I didn't know until the Bloody Mary incident. Then I found out I wasn't the only weird person."

"How did it start?"

"My brother and I were just always able to do things…are family was special or something. They died in a car crash when I was six and me and Derek lived with my aunt until Derek became my legal guardian. We were both able to do weird things. I don't get the dreams all the time…how long have your been going on?"

"Since I was eighteen or nineteen," he said. "What else can you do?"

"Besides beat your brother at a fair fight and shoot a can off a ledge from fifty yards away," she shrugged. "I don't know, curse everyone I love to an early grave, so don't get too attached," she winked at him.

"You're not cursed, Bridge," he shook his head. "Bad things just happen."

"Yeah, sucky bad things," she sighed.

"It doesn't make you cursed or mean it was your fault."

"I never said it was."

"You didn't have to."

Her mouth twitched a bit and she let out a deep breath. "I had a dream about it…about my brother's house catching fire and a body lying in the front yard with someone kneeling over it and some dark figure disappearing out of sight…and it happened. I thought it was just a dream and they're dead…and I know it's not my fault because usually my dreams are meant to happen…I just have a hard time believing they were meant to die and leave me alone…but I'm going to find that bastard that shot Will and make 'em pay…"

"What about the one that killed your brother and his wife and your nephew?"

She smiled sideways at him and nudged him with her arm, "You and your brother can take care of him, you have more reason, just let me have the blonde dark glowy eyed one and we're even…and don't worry, Sam…I won't tell Dean about your dreams or your migraine visions."

"Migraine visions?" he questioned.

"Dream I had, give it time," she sighed.

He shook his head, "You are a weird one Bridget."

"Thank you kindly," she said with a curt nod.

"Never said it was a compliment."

"But I know it was."

"Why?"

"Because if it wasn't you'd be kissing the sidewalk."

"Are you really that good? I've never seen you do it," he said and the next thing he knew his arm was twisted behind his back and her leg kicked his ankle out from under him and just before he hit the floor her hand latched onto his shoulder, pulling him back up and propelling him into the wall as she let go. He stared at her as she stood there, hands folded over her chest with a small smile, her eyebrow cocked. He nodded his head, "Okay…you're that good."

"I'm not the type of girl guys have to worry about," she told him as they continued watching approaching the reverends house and sitting on a bench next to it. She touched her necklace, "But some guys do anyway…men."

"Only cause we care," he told her.

"You do realize you have a great family…" she turned her head to him. "That your brother loves you more than anyone else and your father is proud of you in a way you don't understand."

Sam snorted.

"I will put you on the floor for real this time, Sam…your dad does love you…"

"Funny way of showing it and how would you know?"

"Because I talked to him and he said it…"

Sam's face fell a bit. "What did he say?"

She shook her head, "Why don't you try talking to him when we find him?"

"You mean if…"

"No," she looked back at the house. "I meant when."

He was about to ask her a question when they heard the reverend and his daughter arguing from inside. They sat quietly, listening, waiting just in case anything approached. Lori came outside and sat next to them on the bench a few minutes later. "I saw you guys from upstairs. What are you doing here?"

"We're keeping an eye on the place," Bridget said. "We were worried."

"About me?" she asked in shock looking back and forth at the two.

"Yeah, sorry," Sam apologized.

"No, it's cool. I already called the cops," she smiled teasing.

"I'm glad you're joking. I've had enough of cops for the day," Bridget snorted.

"I'm glad you guys care, no matter how you dress," she said to Bridget who again snorted. "I think it's very sweet of you both but you should seriously run away from me."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"It's like I'm cursed or something. People around me keep dying," she said sadly.

Sam's eyes met Bridget and he noted she was touching her necklace again. He imagined she was feeling that same gut clenching twist he was at the words. "I think we know how you feel."

"No one will talk to me anymore…except you two. The sheriff thinks I'm a suspect…and you know what my dad will say? Pray. Have faith. What does he know about faith?"

"We heard you guys fighting in there," Sam gestured at the house.

"He's seeing a woman, a married woman. I just found out. She comes to our church with her husband. I know her kids. And he talks to me about religion? About morality? It's like, on one hand, you know, just do what you want and be happy. But he taught me, raised me to believe that if you do something wrong you will get punished. I just don't know what to think anymore."

Bridget's cell phone rang, the name flashing Dean. She stood up and walked a couple paces away, answering the phone. "What's up?"

"You with Lori?" he asked.

"Yup, she's okay," she nodded. "You find Jacob?"

"I hope so," he said. "Body's salted and burnt. Should be good?"

"All right, I'll let Sam know," she turned her head around and her eyes widened a bit to see Lori kissing Sam and she couldn't help to feel a pang of something…jealousy? No, it couldn't be. They were her friends and she didn't want some basket case bimbo with a hook man messing with her friends.

"Bridge, you there?" Dean said on the other line.

"Yeah, sorry. I'll let Sam know."

"Okay, see you guys soon."

She hung up her phone and strolled back to the, lips pursued and walking with more purpose. "That was Dean," she said a bit bitterly though the two were no longer kissing she was pretty sure the lethal I'm-a-bitch look was in her eyes. "He's on his way to us."

"Lori?" they heard the reverend call from the house. "Come inside, please."

Lori growled. "I'll come inside when I'm ready."

Bridget's eyes widened suddenly as the Hook Man appeared behind the reverend and slashed his hook into his shoulder, he pulled him inside and the door slammed shut. "Oh my God," Bridget said and was already running towards the house, Lori screaming somewhere behind her. She burst through the front door and heard him screaming upstairs. She took them two at a time and kicked at the bedroom door as the Hook Man was about to put his hook in him again. Sam nudged her aside and shot him causing him to turn to dust and disappear.

Lori pushed her past her and kneeled down next to her dad, crying hysterically. Bridget was already on the phone calling an ambulance. She hung up and looked at Sam with a shake of her head, "Dean burnt the body…what the hell is going on?"

They found themselves explaining it to the police at the hospital. "We were just talking outside. Then Lori's dad came out…and then he appeared."

"A big man? Carrying a weapon, some kind of hook?" the Sheriff repeated.

Bridget nodded, "Yes, wearing like a trench coat and a hat."

"Ever seen him before?"

Bridget shook her head and Sam answered, "No, sir."

"Listen, it seems every time I turn around I'm seeing the two of you, I suggest you stay out of trouble."

Dean came walking down the hall and two cops stopped him, "No, no. It's okay, that's my brother and my girlfriend," he looked past the cops waving at them. "Hey brother! Girlfriend!"

Bridget rolled her eyes and the sheriff let him through. He came straight over to them not missing an opportunity to put his arm around her shoulders though he might pay for it later if his hand fell any lower. "You two okay?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"What the hell happened?" Dean asked.

"Hook Man," she told him.

"He was there?" Dean looked at her bewildered.

"Yeah, I thought you torched him."

"I did, how could it be him?"

"There's another thing," Sam said. "I don't think the spirit is latching on to the reverend."

"That's kind of a no brainer, why would he send the guy after himself," Dean said.

"I think it's latching onto Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman," he informed him.

"So what?"

Bridget rolled her eyes and shrugged his arm off her shoulder, "So she's upset about it. She's upset about the immorality of it. She told us she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong you get punished."

"Okay, so she's conflicted and the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching on to repress the emotions and maybe he's doing the punishing for her?"

"Right," Sam nodded. "Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl, Dad has an affair."

"Remind me not to get on her bad side," Bridget mumbled. "If you burnt the body, Dean, was is he still coming around."

"Maybe you missed something," Sam suggested.

"No, I burnt the entire coffin," he said.

"Did you get the hook?" Bridget asked.

"The hook?"

"Well, it was the murder weapon and in a way a part of him," she said.

"So, like the bones, the hook is a source of power…"

"So if we find the hook…" Sam went on.

The three spoke at the same time, "We stop the Hook Man." They smiled at each other, finding a plan.

Discouragement came twenty minutes later after reading that the hook was in the church but it was melted down into something else. The only solution was to break in and burn everything silver and after salvaging everything in the house and church they had a bon fire in the basement. Footsteps were suddenly heard upstairs and they hurried up seeing Lori sitting in a pew crying.

"Lori?" Bridget said and stepped closer to her.

"Bridget, what are you doing here?" she gasped startled and looked her over. "Do you always wear those kind of clothes?"

She shrugged, "It's easy to wear."

"What's wrong?" Sam asked.

She wiped at her eyes, "I've been trying to understand what's going on so I'm praying for forgiveness."

"Forgiveness for what?"

"Don't you see? I'm to blame for all this. I've read in the Bible about avenging angels," Lori said.

"Trust us, this guy is no angel."

"I was angry at my father…and then he came."

"It's not your fault," Bridget said.

"Yes, it is. I don't know how but it is," a shadow caught Bridget's attention, something was wrong. "I killed Rich. Taylor, too…I nearly killed my father."

Sam shook his head, "Lori…don't."

"I can see it now," she said. "They didn't deserve to be punished, I do." The candles at the altar suddenly blew out and Bridget cursed.

"Shit, come on, we gotta go," she started walking away and opened the door to the basement and the Hook Man appeared behind it, pushing his hook through. She slammed the door on him. "GO!" she yelled and ran down the aisle with Sam and Lori. Sam shut the door and the hook came through, missing him by inches. Bridget found herself on the other side of the door, he was in front of her and had no desire to go after her.

"Lori! Hurry! Get upset at me!"

"Why?" she yelled back.

"Just do it, because I know you hate my outfit, I know you think it's slutty. Punish me for it!" The Hook Man was swinging at them and caught Sam's shoulder. "HURRY!"

"Okay…"

Suddenly the Hook Man froze, looking back and forth between them then started after her. Bridget realized then she had no weapon. "Great plan," she mumbled to herself and ran into the other room, shutting the door behind her, but it had no lock. "Shit," she pushed a nightstand in front of it and his hook started beating through. She turned to go through another room but there were no more doors, she was trapped. "Shit…shit…"

A pounding noise behind her made her jump and she turned to face the window into the room Sam was in. He motioned for her to back up and shattered the window, knocking the glass off the frame and motioning for her. "Come on!"

"Are you okay?" she asked him seeing the blood on his shoulder.

"Yeah, come on," the door shattered behind her. "NOW!"

Bridget pushed up on the ledge and Sam put his arms around her, pulling her through, the Hook man lashed out, catching the backside of her lower leg, cutting through her shoe straight into her calf. She yelled out in pain and lashed out with her other foot causing him to disappear. Sam righted her to her feet and bent down to look at her leg. "Are you okay?"

She patted his shoulder, "Yeah, I'll live. Where is he?"

An invisible force knocked down Lori and started dragging her across the floor. Sam and Bridget hurried over to her and helped her up. "Come on," they managed to pull her away.

The Hook Man appeared behind Sam, knocking him into the wall and coming at Lori and Bridget. She stood in front of the younger girl, shielding her. He reached out and grabbed Bridget holding her by the throat, she scratched and clawed but it was no use. She was going to die.

Suddenly he exploded into dust and she leaned back against the table, catching her breath. "Are you okay?" Sam asked her.

"Never better," she nodded and looked at Dean. "I thought you got all the silver."

"So did I," Dean said.

"Then why is he still here?" Sam asked. His eyes froze on Lori and her cross. "Lori, where did you get that chain?"

"My father gave it to me," she said.

"Where'd your dad get it?"

"He said it was a church heirloom, he gave it to me when school started."

"Is it silver?" Bridget asked.

"Yes," she said and Sam ripped it off. A ripping noise came down the hallway, a long drag mark being left in the wall. Dean looked at Sam holding his hand out. "Sam!" Dean threw him the shot gun and tossed him the necklace. Sam shot at the invisible force and reloaded the gun but had a hard time with his injured shoulder.

"Here, let me," she reached for the gun but it was knocked from Sam's arm and they were pushed back, hitting the floor. The three back pedaled into a corner, the Hook Man looming over them. "I sooo did not see this in a dream," Bridget mumbled and Sam put his arm around her, trying to shield her. She was getting a little tired of that. She pushed his arm away from her just as he raised his hook and suddenly it melted and he burned away. With a deep breath she pushed herself to her feet, wincing slightly at the pain it caused her. That was going to be a bitch later.

She heard sirens, "Always two minutes too late," she sighed and started limping down the hall, patting Dean on the shoulder as she went.

"You should really look at visiting the ambulance," he said.

"Why?" she asked as they all walked outside.

"Because you have blood dripping out of your shoe," he pointed out.

"Yeah…I'm pissed…I like these shoes."

"You have two more pairs just like them," he told her.

"I know," she sighed. "You talk to the Sheriff, I'll go to the ambulance with Sam."

There she sat, wincing here and there as they cleaned out her cut, luckily needing no stitches just some butterfly bandages.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked her, shouldering back into his jacket.

"I'm great," she said looking at her ruined shoe. "I really liked these."

"No, I mean are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You didn't seem fine."

"I had a hooked hand guy coming after me, Sam."

"You also shoved me away when I was trying to protect you."

"Because I don't need you too," she shook her head. "You seem to like girls you have to save," her eyes flittered to Lori.

Sam caught on, "You saw her kiss me."

"Looked like you kissed her too. Not that I care, I just watch out for people I care about," she said.

"So do I," he said and smiled at her, she smiled back and looked up as Lori approached.

"Are you guys okay?"

She held up her shoe, "I'm better than my shoe."

"I'm sorry about that," she apologized.

She shrugged it off, "I wasn't quick enough."

"I still don't know what happened but you all saved my life…thank you."

Sam nodded and smiled and helped Bridget as the two walked away, her determined to walk on her own no matter how bad her limp was.

"You two all right?" Dean asked as they got in.

Bridget stretched her leg out, "Don't worry, I won't bleed all over your car."

"Just checking," Dean said and started the car, driving off into the distance if the interstate, wondering what freaky thing would come their way next.


	5. Bugs

**DISCLAIMER: I still don't own the characters or events**

**S1 EP8 BUGS**

Bridget and Dean went outside wearing matching grins as they made their way to where Sam was leaning against the car reading a paper. They flashed him the money they had and he shook his head. "You know we could get day jobs."

"Hey, I already have a job and I'm just making up for what I don't get paid to do," Bridget said, leaning next to him and counting her money before stuffing it in her boot, her left one since her right leg was still sensitive from the gnarly scratch she got from hook boy three weeks ago. Her boots were lower now, stopping mid calf but she switched wearing a skirt to wearing a nice pair of blue jeans that clung to all the right places. She pulled her pant leg back over her boot and folded her arms over chest. It didn't stop her from wearing v-neck shirts though. Helped her win at pool when guys couldn't focus.

"I agree with Bridget. Our pay is crap with hunting," Dean said.

"Yeah, but hustling pool? Credit card scams? It's not the most honest living," Sam pointed out.

"Well, let's see honest," Dean held out his empty hand. "Fun and easy," he held out the hand with the cash and that hand rose up while the other sunk. "It's no contest, besides, we're good at it. It's what we were raised to do."

"Yeah, well, how we were raised was jacked."

"Says you. We got a new gig or what?"

"Maybe," Sam said. "Oasis Plains, Oklahoma – not far from here. A gas company employee, Dustin Burwash, supposedly died from Creutzfeldt-Jakob."

Bridget shook her head while Dean looked utterly confused. "And what does that have to do with us?"

"Could be worth checking out."

"Sounds more like a waste of our time if he died from that," she argued. "I mean, come on, Sam."

"I think it's worth looking into, Bridge."

"Why?"

"Wait!" Dean held up his hands. "What the hell is Cruzfield Jake?"

"Creutzfeldt-Jakob," they corrected him. Then Sam explained, "Human mad cow disease."

"Mad cow? Wasn't that on Oprah?"

Bridget blinked a few times and Sam smiled, "You watch Oprah?"

Dean looked embarrassed for a minute before clearing his throat. "So this guy ate a bad burger. Why is it our kind of thing like Bridge asked?"

"Mad cow disease causes massive brain degeneration. It takes months, even years, for the damage to appear. But this guy, Dustin? Sounds like his brain disintegrated in about an hour. Maybe less."

"Okay…now that's weird," Bridget said. "Why didn't you just say that?"

"I was trying to but you kept arguing."

"Oh," she shrugged.

"It could be a disease or it could be something nastier."

"All right. Oklahoma it is," he said and opened the driver's door. Bridget and Sam followed him into the car as he started it. "Man. Work, work, work. No time to spend my money."

A few hours later they were outside the Oklahoma Gas and Power company. They were approaching another man, "Travis Weaver?" Sam asked.

The man nodded, "Yeah that's right."

"Are you the Travis who worked with Uncle Dusty?" Dean asked.

"Dustin never mentioned nephews or a niece."

"Oh she's not his niece," Dean said and grabbed her arm pulling her closer to him. "She's my girl." Bridget licked her teeth to keep from saying anything.

"Really? He never mentioned any of you."

"Really?" Dean said. "He said you were the greatest."

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"Oh, he did, huh?" Travis said smugly.

"Listen, we wanted to ask you…what exactly happened here?"

"I'm not sure," he shook his head. "He fell into the sinkhole, I went to the truck to get some rope and uh…by the time I got back…"

"What did you see?" Dean asked.

"Nothin'. Just Dustin."

"No wounds or anything?" Sam questioned.

"Well, he was bleeding from his eyes and ears, his nose. But that's it."

"So you think it could be the whole mad cow thing?" Bridget asked this time, shrugging out from Dean's shoulder.

"I don't know. That's what the doctors are sayin'."

"But if it was, he would've acted strange beforehand, like dementia. You ever notice anything like that?" Sam questioned.

"No. No way. But then again, if it wasn't some disease. What was it?"

"That's a good question," Dean said.

"You know, can you tell us where this happened?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I'll point you to it," he nodded and walked them over about twenty yards out to where the sink hole was before going back to work. It was surrounded by police tape, futilely warning them out.

"Huh…what do you think?" Bridget asked, folding her arms over her chest and staring at the hole.

"I don't know. But if that guy, Travis, is right, it happened pretty damn fast." They moved under the police tape and stared down the hole with a flash light Dean had brought.

"So, what? Some sort of creature chewed on his brain?" Dean speculated.

"No, there would be an entry wound," said Sam. "Sounds like this thing worked from the inside."

"Looks like there's only room for one of us," Bridget said and stood up from her gaze down the hole. "And it won't be me."

"Wanna flip for it?" Dean asked.

"Dean, we have no idea what's down there?"

Dean picked up a coil of rope from nearby. "All right, if you're scared, I'll do it."

"Flip the damn coin," he said.

"All right," he fished a quarter from his pocket. "Call it in the air…chicken." He flipped it and Sam caught it mid air.

"I'm going."

"I said I'd go," Dean said.

"I'm going," Sam argued.

"All right," Dean sighed irritated and handed Sam the rope to tie around him. He began to do tie it around his waist. Bridget shook her head.

"That's not good enough," she moved to stand in front of him and undid it easily. "You gotta use the climbers knot or it'll cut off the circulation in your waist and come undone," she said and began tying it around Sam, looping it at different points. "And I really don't want to have to go down there and get you," she finished tying it at the front of his pants, fingers brushing across his shirt as she looked up and saw him looking at her in a way she couldn't afford. She smiled a bit and backed up a step. "Try to not get stuck down there."

Dean shook his head, taking the other end of the rope. "I _knew_ I wanted to go down there."

"Don't drop me," he said and climbed down.

No problems were had and they had Sam out of the hole ten minutes later. Bridget untied the rope around his waist after he struggled with it, threatening to cut it off. She undid it in thirty seconds, warning Dean from any inappropriate words. All Sam had found in the hole were dead beetles

"So we found some beetles…that's exciting," Dean said less than thrilled.

"There were no tunnels, no tracks. No evidence of any kind of creatures down there. You know, some beetles do eat meat."

"How many did you find?" Bridget asked cutting him off before he could go on one of his tangents.

"Ten."

"It'd take a whole lot more than that to eat a dude's brain out," Dean said.

"Well, maybe there were more."

"I don't know, this seems like a stretch to me."

"Well, we need more information on the area, the neighborhood. Whether something like this has ever happened before," he said. Bridget looked out the window and saw the open house going on in the town, red balloons leading the way. "What?"

Bridget tapped Dean's shoulder and pointed. "I know a good place to start."

"I'm hungry for a little barbeque," Dean said with a grin and looked at Sam. "How 'bout you?" Sam gave him a look. "What, we can't mingle with the neighbors?"

"And the free food has nothing to do with it?"

"Of course not," Dean snorted. "I'm a professional."

"Uh huh," Bridget said.

They pulled over and parked, getting out and walking towards the open house.

Dean looked at the matching houses and well to do lawns, everything in its proper place and felt nauseated. "Growin' up in a place like this would freak me out."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Well manicured lawns, 'how was your day, honey' – I'd blow my brains out."

"There's nothing wrong with 'normal'," Sam said.

"There's always something wrong with normal," Bridget added as Dean knocked.

A man dressed in a collared shirt with a sweater vest that caused Bridget to take a step back answered the door with a grin, "Welcome."

"This the barbeque?" Dean asked.

She rolled her eyes as Larry answered, "Yeah, not the best weather but…I'm Larry Pike, the developer here. And you are…?"

"Dean, this is Sam and that's-."

She cut him off before her could introduce her as his girlfriend, "Bridget. I'm Bridget."

"Sam, Dean, Bridget," he nodded. "Good to meet you. Are you three interested in Oasis Plains?"

"Yes, sir," Dean nodded.

"Let me just say – we accept homeowners of any race, religion, color or…sexual orientation," he said and looked at the three.

Bridget cursed; they thought they were a kinky threesome.

Dean gestured at Sam, "We're brothers, nothing going on here."

"And leave me out of that," Bridget added.

"Our father is getting on in his years and we're just looking for a place for him," Sam said taking in a lie for once.

"Great, great. Well, seniors are welcome, too. Come on in," he led them to the backyard where people stood around chatting in their brightly colored close and well done nails. Bridget thought she'd be sick from the cheeriness, but at least she was wearing jeans today, well fitting and a helluva lot more stylish than the women there though.

"You said you were a developer?" Sam asked as they moved along with him.

"Eighteen months ago, I was walking this valley with a survey team. There was nothing here but scrub bush and squirrels. And you know what, we built such a nice place to live that I actually bought into it myself. This is our house. We're the first family in Oasis Plains," he brought a petite smiling woman over to meet them. "This is my wife, Joanie."

"Hi there," she smiled and waved, shaking their hands.

"This is Sam, Dean, and Bryce."

"Bridget," she corrected though doubted they heard.

"Tell them how much you love the place, honey, and lie if you have to so I can sell the house," he chuckled at his own joke and Bridge forced a smile.

"Will you excuse me," he said and walked off leaving them to Joanie.

"Don't let his salesmen routine scare you. This really is a great place to live." An even more energetic woman strolled over to them, her black hair pulled back in a tight bun.

"Hi! I'm Lynda Bloome, head of sales."

"And she's a very noisy neighbor," Joanie joked and Bridge was having a hard time forcing a smile on this stepford wives, they never seemed unhappy.

"So I take it you two are interested in becoming homeowners."

"Three," Bridget said from Sam's right, continuously invisible. She folded her arms over her chest, she never had this problem in her skirts.

"Well…" Dean trailed off.

"Yeah well…" Sam shrugged.

"Well, let me just say we accept home owners of any race, religion, color, or…sexual orientation."

Bridget had enough, she went on instinct and grabbed Sam's hand in her own, pulling him around to her and moving up on tip toe as she planted her lips on his, one arm going around his backside. She felt him tense up as she did it and relax as she kept kissing him slowly. She could almost hear the two women shift uncomfortably. Now they noticed her! She backed away from Sam with a smile and he looked just as surprised as Dean. "I'm going to go get a soda, I'll be right back, doll," she smacked his ass as she walked past him to the drink table, fully aware of everyone watching her. She grabbed two Sprites, noticing Dean was now talking to Larry and handed one to Sam as she reentered the conversation noticing the tarantula and the grinning teenager a few feet away. Bridget managed to scoop it up and they excused themselves so she could give it back to the kid.

"This yours?"

He took it from her. "Are you guys gonna tell my dad?"

"I don't know, who's your dad?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, Larry usually skips me in family introductions," he scoffed.

"Ouch, first name basis with the old man –sounds pretty grim," Sam winced.

"Well, I'm not exactly brochure material."

"Well, hang in there," Bridget said. "Besides…you're not as boring as the rest of these people…"

"Yeah," he grinned. "I think you kissing your boyfriend like that is the biggest shock they've ever had."

"Matthew!" they heard Larry call out and walk over to them. "Excuse us," he said and walked off with his son.

"Remind you of somebody?" Sam asked Dean, rejoining them as they watched Larry yell at Matt. "Dad?"

"Dad never treated us like that," Dean said.

"Dad never treated _you_ like that," Sam corrected him and Bridget stayed quiet. "You were perfect. He was all over my case. You don't remember?"

"Well, maybe he raised his voice at you when you were out of line."

"Right," he scoffed. "Like when I said I'd rather play soccer than learn bowhunting."

"Bowhunting is an important skill…Bridget learned it in two day's."

"How was your tour?" she asked changing subject.

"Not as good as your make out scene."

"They were ignoring me and kept calling you guys gay, I merely corrected them."

"You could have used me," he pouted.

"You'd like it too much," she said. "What did you learn?"

"That Dustin wasn't the first death around here."

"What happened?" Sam asked, forgetting the before argument.

"About a year ago, before they broke ground, one of Larry's surveyors dropped dead while on the job. Get this – severe allergic reaction to bee stings."

"More bugs," Sam noted.

"Yup."

Bridget threw away her empty can, "Let's ditch this place. Find some info on this bug thing."

* * *

Bridget pouted in the backseat, staring out the window. Dean had let Sam drive the Impala instead of her while he sat in the front seat going through John's journal. She was pretty sure it had to do with kissing Sam at the BBQ and not him. Sam was two for two after only knowing him for four months while she knew Dean for three years, but Dean expected it. Still, it wasn't fair.

"You know, I've heard of killer bees, but killer beetles? What is it that could make different bugs attack?" Dean asked.

"Well haunting sometimes include bug manifestations," Sam said.

"I didn't see any ghost activity."

"Me neither," Sam said.

"Bridge, you have any dreams on this?"

"On killer bugs? No, I did have a nice one of Gerard Butler doing naughty things to me though…doubt that's a premonition, but it's nice to hope," she grinned.

"Okay, way more than I needed to know," Dean said turning back around. "Maybe they're being controlled by something or someone."

"You mean, like Willard," she said.

"Yeah, but bugs instead of rats."

"There are cases of psychic connections between people and animals – elemental, telepaths," this coming from Sam.

"Yeah, that whole Timmy-Lassie thing…Larry's kid, he's got bugs for pets."

"Matt?" Bridget asked.

"Yeah."

"He did try to scare the realtor with a tarantula."

"You think he's our Willard?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't know, anything is possible I guess."

Dean glanced out the window. "Oh hey, pull over!" he pointed at the empty house and Sam pulled into the driveway.

"What are we doing here?"

Dean was already out of the car, "It's too late to talk to anybody else."

Bridget rolled her eyes, following him with her shoulder bag. "We're gonna squat in an empty house?"

"I wanna try the steam shower," he pulled open the garage door. Sam stared at him. "Come on!"

Bridget shrugged looking back at the car, "We might as well."

Sam reluctantly pulled the car into the garage and Dean slid the door shut, popping the lock into the kitchen. Of course there were only two bedrooms and Dean claimed the one with the steam shower. She set her bag on the queen sized bed near Sam who was watching TV. "Looks like I'm bunking with you, Dean's too in love with the shower for me to stomach it. Do you mind?"

He shook his head, "Be my guest."

"Good, I was hoping you'd say that," she sat on the edge of the bed and removed her shoes, setting them next to the bed and tucking her money deeper into them. She grabbed some clothes from her bag and went out into the hall to change since Dean was in the shower still, she could hear the water running and him singing.

She came back in putting her dirty clothes in the bag and taking out her sketch book, getting back in the bed clad in shorts and a tank top and sat hunched over her sketch book. Sam noticed the scar on her leg was fainter now, a light pink against her skin."How's your leg?" He asked to mask the silence that still seemed to hang with the TV on.

"Its fine, doesn't hurt anymore," she said and continued to sketch.

"Looks like there'll be a scar."

"Yeah, not as bad as others."

"I don't see any scars."

She put her pencil down and lifted the back of her shirt, there were scratch marks just below her bra. "How did you do that?"

"Pissed off spirit got me. You're Dad got rid of it real fast."

She spun around and held her left leg out, on her ankle was another scar. "Razor slash from a demon, bastard got me from the ground. Dean killed that one. So I got my fair share of bumps and bruises."

"I see," he nodded and focused on the TV while she laid on her stomach towards the head of the bed, sketch book on her pillow for better light access.

"You do know your radiate tension, right?" she said to Sam.

"What?"

She put her pencil down, "You become awkward around me, if you have anything to say just say it because we already talked about my weird dream ability amongst other things I can do that Dean used to love teasing me about until he found the ground was harder than it looked."

"Like what?"

"You know, you saw me try to move the gun back when I first met you."

"Yeah, you also kissed me when you first met me," he countered.

She pursued her lips, "Is that what this is about? The kiss earlier. I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable and I'm sorry I kissed you again. If I knew you'd be upset I wouldn't have done it. Next time I'll just use Dean, he'd like that."

"No, I wasn't upset it's just…"

She nodded as he trailed off, putting her sketch book away and sitting up on the bed next to him. "I understand."

"I know you do…which is why I like talking to you, Bridge…you understand me where Dean doesn't. Not just because you lost your family but because you understand what it feels like to want to _be_ normal…you didn't want to do this your whole life and you were put into it…like me."

She nodded, "Nothing we can do about that…not now at least…I'd like to think that someday though this will be done and I can try to have a normal life and a normal family...but right now, Sam, this is what we have and there's no point in trying to outrun it because no matter how hard or fast we run…we won't get them back…"

"I know…it gets easier as the days go by…easier than I thought."

"It does," she agreed and set her necklace on the nightstand. "So what are we watching?"

"Uhh…looks like _Married with Children_."

"Oo, I like this show," she sat back on the bed and found it awfully slippery, she kept sliding down and having to push herself back up. After it ended, _Malcolm in the Middle_ came on. "Eh…I hate this show," she looked over Sam and saw the remote and reached for it, but he snagged it away. "Give me the remote, please."

"No," he shook his head.

"Sam, give me the remote."

"No," he grinned.

She tried to grab it but he put it under his back. "I will hurt you."

"Try me," he challenged

She launched for him, trying to get her hands under his back but he kept moving, pushing it away from her. "You are sooo gonna get it," she chuckled.

"Oh, yeah, you're real fierce," he said sarcastically.

She got on her knees, laughing, forgetting how slippery the bed was and slid. She put her hand out, bracing herself on one side of Sam, the other on his chest. One of his hands had gone around her waist to keep her from falling the other to her shoulder and their faces were only inches apart. She could feel his heart beating faster under her palm and was very aware of how close she was to him. She darted her eyes away, hoping the urge to kiss him would fade with the change in her vision. He brushed the hair from her eyes and she was drawn back and the look in his blue eyes, the desire became too much, she kissed him and this time he wasn't tense at all as his fingers tangled in her hair and his hand drew her closer, rolling her over beneath him, removing her shirt in one fluid movement as she pulled his shirt over his head, fingers moving down his bare chest to undo his pants. Bridget knew he might regret it later with Jess's death still so new…but she doubted she could regret something she'd been wanting for over a month. She knew and feared that she was falling in love with the youngest Winchester's which would cause a whole slew of problems on it's own if she didn't fix it.

* * *

Bridget awoke to the sun peaking at her face and brushed back her hair. She was lying on her stomach, the sheet draped only on her back, she pulled it up to her chest as she sat up, the night rushing back to her from the slight aches and pains that weren't unpleasant. She looked at her watch on the nightstand, 7am. She'd only been asleep four hours…it had been a long, but really good night. She put her necklace back on, briefly touching the ring before grabbing a clean set of clothes from her back and slipping her shorts and top on to sneak off into the other shower. She was out ten minutes later, feeling fresher but wishing for coffee.

A Starbucks cup appeared in front of her that Sam held out and she gratefully took it, "You read my mind."

"You were sleeping, I didn't want to wake you."

"Yeah, I'm not a happy morning person."

"I know, you threw a shoe at me last week, few days before that I think it was your book you decked me with."

She laughed, "Yeah, I've done worse…ask Dean…where is Dean?"

"Shower."

She rolled her eyes, "Again? Did he ever get out of it last night?"

"I wouldn't know," he said, looking away.

Oh right, they were busy last night, too distracted to notice. "Oh…yeah…about that…ummm…still friends…right?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course," he nodded quickly, putting a hand in his pocket the other holding his coffee cup.

"If…if it makes you feel any better…I don't do this sort of thing…" she bit her lower lip.

"You're kidding?" he asked genuinely surprised.

"Just because I wear skirts and tops doesn't mean I'm a slut," she growled.

"No, no, no, it's not that," he said though it partially was but not with the term slut. "It's just…three years is a long time."

"Four."

"What?"

"It's been four years now…it was four a week ago…"

He thought about it and remembered a night where she had lit four candles next to her bed and had sketched for awhile in her book, very quiet, not her usual self. Dean had let her have a bed to herself while he shared one with his brother. "I'm sorry…I didn't know."

"I don't really tell anyone," she said with a small smile. "I just never…I never wanted to be with anyone else, sex never meant much to me so…yeah, last night just sort of happened. I don't regret it, but I thought you should know you shouldn't feel guilty because it had been awhile for me too."

"Thanks," he nodded with a smile and gestured down the hall. "We should go get Dean out of that shower, I heard a call on the police scanner…we got work to do."

"Uh oh…what?"

"I'll tell you both," he pounded n the bathroom door. "You ever comin' out of there?"

"What?" Dean shouted over the water.

"Dean, a police call came in on the scanner."

"Hold on."

"Someone was found dead three blocks from here. Let's go," the bathroom door opened slightly and Dean stuck his head out that was wrapped in a towel.

"This shower is awesome…Bridget, care to join me."

"I just showered, you missed your chance, now put some clothes on and let's go." She walked away leaving Dean to dress.

"You think he knows?" she asked Sam once down the hall, picking her bag up off the floor.

He shook his head, "Doubt it."

"Good, don't tell him. I'll never hear the end of it."

"You think I want to hear it," he shook his head. "Umm…speaking of last night…"

"What about it? I didn't fake it, I swear," she promised.

He blushed slightly, "No, no, not that…it's just…we didn't use…a – uh – condom."

"Not the first time," she smiled sideways and enjoyed the blush that radiated off him. "Relax," she pulled out a small circular compact of birth control pills. "I'm covered."

He let out the breath that he'd been holding. "Just checking."

She snorted, "You think I want to get pregnant at a time like this…though my sex life has been pretty nonexistent until last night, still nice to be covered, just in case."

He nodded his head and Dean joined them at that point, she shoved her pills back in the purse and gestured. "Shall we be going then?"

"What? No breakfast?" Dean asked.

Sam handed him a coffee cup.

Dean rolled his eyes, "Better than nothin' I guess…I sure am gonna miss that shower."

"We know, you were in it half the night and morning."

"Least I'm squeaky clean," he said and got into the car.

"Ha, with this job, you'll be dirty in an hour."

"Long as you promise to dirty me," he teased.

She shook her head and read her book as they drove off to the house, hoping things never got awkward between her and Sam. After all, it was just sex, or at least she told herself that.

* * *

They got out of the car walking up to the front of the house where Larry stood outside looking grim as the paramedics loaded a gurney with a body bag into the ambulance.

"You're, uh, back early," Larry said as they approached.

Dean glanced at the ambulance, "Yeah, we just drove in, wanted to take another look at the neighborhood."

"Not the best advertisement," Bridget said and Sam nudged her.

"What's goin' on?" he asked.

"You guys met, uh…Lynda Bloome at the Barbeque?"

"The realtor," Bridget nodded.

"Well, she, uh…passed away last night."

Dean seemed shocked, "What happened?"

"I'm still trying to find out. Look, I'm sorry, right now is not a good time," he said. "Excuse me," he walked away towards the police cars looking upset.

"You know what we have to do, right?" Bridget said once he was gone.

"Yeah, get in that house," Sam nodded.

"See if we got a bug problem," Dean added.

"Good thing I wore jeans today," Bridget said as they hoped the fence to the backyard.

"Kinda wish you weren't. I was betting on blue panties," Dean whispered as they moved up the side of the house. She shoved him a bit and they came up to the window. Dean peeked in, "Looks clear." Bridget went in first, followed by Dean who grinned, "They're purple, saw them at the back of your jeans. Looked like a thong."

She hit his arm and he rubbed at the spot as Sam came in through the window next, "Ow."

The outline of a body on the carpet was a giveaway. "This looks like the place," Dean said and picked up a towel, dropping it and jumping back as dead spiders fell off it. "Spiders. From Spider Boy?"

"Matt," Sam corrected. "And maybe."

A noise from down the hall caused them to scramble back out the window, Bridget jumping down last and Sam half catching her. "Let's go."

"Where we going now?" she asked.

"Following Bug Boy," dean said.

"He'll be getting out of school now," Sam said and got in the car. It wasn't a long drive to the bus stop and Matt got off walking to the right, towards the woods.

"Isn't his house the other direction?" Bridget asked.

"Uh huh," Sam nodded.

"So where is he goin'?" Dean asked.

Bridget was already out of the car, "One way to find out." She heard the boys following behind her as she went into the woods and saw Matt studying a grasshopper. "Hey Matt, remember us?"

"What are you guys doin' here?" he said startled.

"Well, we wanna talk to you," Dean said.

Matt stood to his feet, scared a bit. "You're not here to buy a house are you?" Bridget shook her head. "W-wait…you're not serial killers?"

They laughed, "No, no," Sam said. "I think you're safe."

"So, Matt…you sure know a lot about insects."

"So?" he asked typical teenage attitude.

"Did you hear what happened to Lynda, the realtor?" Bridget questioned.

"I heard she died this morning."

"Mm, that's right. Spider bites," Dean filled him in.

"Matt, you tried to scare her with a spider," Sam explained.

"Wait," he held up a hand. "You think I did this?"

"You tell us," Dean said.

He shook his head, "That tarantula was a joke. Anyway, that wouldn't explain the bee attack on the gas guy."

"You know about those?"

"There's something going on here," Matt said. "I don't know what…but something's happening with the insects. Let me show you something." He began walking through the area and they followed him.

"So if you knew about all this bug stuff, why didn't you tell your dad?" Sam asked.

"Believe me, I've tried. But, uh, Larry doesn't listen to me."

"Why not?"

"Mostly? He's too disappointed in his freak son."

"I hear you," Sam scoffed.

"You do?" Dean asked him.

Sam gave him a pointed look. Bridget stayed out of this. She was not going to get in an argument over the Winchester's history. She happened to enjoy the company of all three of them in different ways.

"How old are you, Matt?" Sam asked.

"Sixteen."

"Don't sweat it. Because in two years something great is gonna happen."

Bridget braced herself, this was going to get ugly in soon…or at least set the fuse for ugly later.

"What?" Matt asked.

"College. You'll be able to get out of the house and away from your dad."

"What kind of advice is that? Kid should stick with his family," Dean said and Sam sighed while Dean glared. She wasn't looking forward to later on.

"How much further, Matt?" she asked to break some of the tension that filled the air.

"We're close."

"Good," she grabbed at Dean's arm and felt how tense he was, rubbing at his upper arm a bit to get him to relax.

A moment later they reached a large clearing and could hear hundreds of insects among the trees. "I've been keeping track of the insect populations. It's an AP science class."

"You two are like peas in a pod," Dean mumbled and Sam thankfully ignored it.

"What's been happening?" Sam asked.

"A lot, I mean, from bees to earthworms to beetles. It's like they're congregating here."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"I don't know."

"What's that?" Sam pointed to a dark patch of grass a few feet away. They approached it cautiously and found it to be a pile of earthworms. Dean nudged them with his foot and the ground sank. He picked a stick up off the ground and poked around in the hole. "Something's in there." He rolled up his sleeve and with a disgusted look reached in. He brought his hand back up and Bridget's eyes widened as she grabbed Sam's arm this time, his hand covered hers in his own surprise. Dean was holding a human skull.

* * *

Now they were outside the university, taking their box of bones out from the backseat where Bridget had sat as far away from them as possible. She let Dean carry them as she walked along side Dean.

"So, a bunch of skeletons in an unmarked grave," Sam said.

"Yeah, maybe it's a haunting," Bridget suggested, moving a strand of hair from her face.

"Pissed off spirits?" Dean added. "Some unfinished business?"

"Yeah, maybe. Question is, why bugs? And why now?"

"That's two questions," Dean pointed out. "Yeah…so with that kid back there…why'd you tell him to ditch his family like that?"

And here came part of the storm, Bridget thought and held her breath, staying out if this but knowing she'd intervene if she had to. She had to live with them after all and Dean was her best friend and Sam…well he was her friend too.

"Just, uh…I know what the kid is goin' through," Sam said.

"How 'bout tellin' him to respect his old man, how's that for advice?"

She rubbed at the bridge of her nose recognizing the anger in Dean's voice and Sam was not one to back down as he proved now. "I respected him. But no matter what I did, it was never good enough."

"So what are you sayin'? That dad was disappointed in you?"

"Was? Is. Always has been."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because I didn't wanna bowhunt or hustle pool – because I wanted to go to school and live my life, which, to our whacked out family, made me a freak."

"Yeah, you were kind of like the blonde chick in the Munsters."

"Dean, you know what most dads are when their kid scores a full ride? Proud. Most dads don't toss their kids out of the house."

"I remember that fight. In fact, I seem to recall a few choice phrases comin' out of your mouth."

"You know, truth is, when we finally do find dad…I don't even know if he's gonna want to see me."

"All right! ENOUGH!" Bridget yelled holding her hands out and stepping in between them. "I am sick of this argument. You argue about your _family_ and it makes me want to smack you both! First off, Dean, quit bringing it up. Yeah, your dad was hard on Sam because Sam wasn't like you. He didn't care for hunting like you do which made it easier for your dad and not only that, but you were old enough to understand what happened to your mom, Sam wasn't. And Sam, your dad was never disappointed in you, I've told you that before. But you need to talk to him when we find him, and I mean _talk_ not yell and argue…" she ran her fingers through her hair. "You two argue over your family, about how messed up it is or isn't…I'd do anything just to be able to talk about my family without having to say things in past tense or just to say when I find them…because I'll never find them no matter how hard I look…You have each other and you have your dad, that's blood, nothing can beat blood… just be happy you have a family to look for because you never know what you have until you can't get it back." She touched Sam's arm. "And he was _never_ disappointed."

"She's right," Dean nodded. "Dad was scared."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked looking at both of them.

"He was afraid of what could've happened to you if he wasn't around. But even when you two weren't talkin'…he used to swing by Stanford whenever he could…keep an eye on you. Make sure you were safe."

"What?"

Bridget nodded, "It's true…he sent me a couple times…I'd watch you in the library or the cafeteria and I'd call John if he was on a hunt to let him know you were still okay."

"He sent you?"

"Yeah…you wouldn't recognize me. I was never close enough for you to look at, just another face in the crowd.

"Why didn't any of you tell me?"

"Well it was a two way street, dude," Dean said. "You could've picked up the phone. Come on, we're gonna be late for our appointment."

They walked into the building without another word.

* * *

The Professor looked them over the top of his spectacles, "So you three are students?"

"Yeah, yeah. Uh, we're in your class – Anthro 101

"Oh yeah," he nodded as if remembered them.

"So, what about the bones, Professor?" Bridget questioned, getting back on subject.

"This is quite an interesting find you made. I'd say they're 170 years old, give or take. The timeframe and the geography heavily suggest Native American."

"Were there any tries or reservations on that land?" Sam asked.

"Not according to the historical records. But the, uh, relocation of native peoples was quite common at that time."

"Right," Sam nodded. "Are there any local legends? Oral histories about the area?"

"Well…you know, there's a Euchee tribe in Sapula. Someone might know the truth."

"All right."

Next thing they knew they were in a diner moving over to a man playing cards at a table. "Joe White Tree?" Sam asked and the man nodded, not moving from his cards. "We'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's all right?"

"We're students from the university," Dean added on.

"No, you're not. You're lying," he said and Dean seemed taken aback.

"Well, truth is -."

He cut Dean off, "You know who starts a sentence with 'truth is'. Liars."

"We're trying to find out what's going on. Have you heard of Oasis Plains? It's a housing development near Atoka Valley," Bridget said.

Joe pointed at her, "I like her. She's not a liar," she enjoyed the angry look on Dean's face. "Yes, I know the area."

"What can you tell us about the history?" Sam asked.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Something bad is happening in Oasis Plains. We think it might have something to do with some old bones we found down there – Native American bones," she explained.

"I'll tell you what my grandfather told me, what his grandfather told him. Two hundred years ago, a band of my ancestors lived in that valley. One day, the American cavalry came to relocate them. They were resistant, the cavalry impatient. As my grandfather put it, on the night the moon and the sun share the sky as equals, the cavalry first raided our village. They murdered, raped. The next day, the cavalry came again, and the next, and the next. And on the sixth night, the cavalry came one last time. And by the time the sun rose, every man, woman, and child still in the village was dead. They say on the sixth night, as the chief of the village lay dying, he whispered to the heavens that no white man would ever tarnish this land again. Nature would rise up and protect the valley. And it would bring as many days of misery and death to the white man as the cavalry had brought upon his people."

"Insects," Dean said. "Sounds like nature to me. Six days."

"And on the night of the sixth day, none would survive."

The three exchanged looks and thanked him for his time making a hasty retreat back to the car.

"When did the gas company man die?" Sam asked.

"Uh, let's see. We got here Tuesday, so Friday," Dean calculated.

"March 20th? That's spring equinox."

"The night the sun and the moon share the sky as equals," Bridget said.

"So, every year, about this time, anybody in Oasis Plains in danger. Larry built the neighborhood on cursed land."

"And the sixth night is tonight," Dean pointed out.

"If we don't do something, Larry's family will be dead by sunrise…so how do we break the curse?" Sam asked.

Bridget shook her head, "You don't break a curse. You get out of its way. We've gotta get these people out of there now."

It proved difficult. Dean tried calling Larry as a Gas Company representative saying there was a gas leak in the neighborhood but that didn't work. Larry caught the bluff. Sam took the phone then calling Matt to have Matt talk to his dad…of course when they arrived at the house the family was still there along with a very pissed off Larry.

"Get off my property before I call the cops," he threatened as they approached.

"Mr. Pike, listen," Bridget said.

"Dad, they're just trying to help," Matt stood up.

"Get in the house!" he yelled at his son.

"I told him the truth," he apologized.

"Look it's 12am. They're coming any minute now. You need to get your family and go before it's too late," Sam warned.

Larry rolled his eyes, "Yeah, the biblical storm."

"Larry, what do you think really happened to the realtor, huh? And the gas company guy? You don't think something weird is goin' on here?" Dean argued.

"Look, I don't know who you are, but you're crazy. You come near my boy or my family again and we're gonna have a problem."

"Well, I hate to be a downer," Bridget said glancing in the direction of the woods. "But we've got a problem right now."

"Dad, they're right," Matt said.

"Get inside! Now!"

"No! Why won't you listen to me?" he yelled back at his father.

"Because this is crazy! It doesn't make any sense!"

"Look! This land is cursed. People have died here. Now, are you gonna risk your family?" Sam asked.

"Wait," Bridget held her hand out and they all went silent. "You hear it?" The buzzing sound was getting louder and growing by the second.

"What the hell?" Larry whispered as several bugs hit the bug light.

"All right, time to go, Larry get your wife," Dean said.

"Oh my God," Matt said eyes wide staring at the woods.

The sky was blanketed with bugs, millions covering the sky.

"We'll never make it," Sam said.

"Everybody in the house! Go!" Dean ordered and they rushed inside, slamming the door behind them, locking the door.

"Okay, is there anybody else in the neighborhood?" Sam asked.

"No, just us," Larry shook his head and his wife entered.

"Honey, what's going on? What's that noise?"

"Call 911, Joanie," he told her.

She nodded, picking up the phone.

"I need towels," Dean said.

Sam grabbed Matt, "Okay, we've gotta lock this place up, come on – doors, windows, fireplace, everything."

"The phones are dead," Joanie said.

"That's because they chewed through the phone line," Bridget said.

"I got my cell," Larry opened it. "No signal."

"You won't get one," Dean said. "They're blanketing the house." The five watch as the windows became covered.

"What do we do?" Larry asked.

"We try to outlast it. Hopefully, the curse will end at sunrise," Sam said.

"Hopefully?" Larry repeated.

Dean crossed into the kitchen and grabbed a can from under the sink.

"Bug spray?" Joanie questioned as the fireplace creaked.

"Trust me."

"What is that?" Matt asked.

"The flue in the fireplace," Sam answered.

"All right, I think we should be heading upstairs," Bridget said and as the words left her mouth hundreds of bugs came swarming into the living room. Dean took out his lighter and used the can, creating a fireball. "UPSTAIRS! NOW!"

They hurried into the attic and Sam slammed the door behind them.

A new sound filled the room and dust fell from the ceiling. "Oh God, what's that?" Joanie asked.

"Something's eating the wood," Dean told her.

"Termites," Matt said.

"Get back," Bridget warned as a hole fell through the ceiling. She tried to help San patch it up while Dean used his flame thrower bug spray, but another hole was created and they backed away into a corner, Sam holding onto Bridget. She gripped his arms, death by bugs was not what she had in mind. The sun peaked through the hole and the bugs seemed to retreat. Confused, the three of them walked forward watching as the bugs cleared away. Bridget released her grip on Sam and leaned her forehead on his arm. "That was fun…"

After a few minutes they all moved outside and the Pike's were packing up, ready to move.

"What? No goodbye?" Dean asked, shaking hands with Larry.

"We're getting ready to leave."

"For good?" Bridget asked.

"Yeah. The development's been put on hold for awhile while the government investigates the bones you found. But I'm gonna make damn sure no one lives here again."

"You don't seem upset by that," Sam noted.

"Well, this has been the biggest financial disaster of my career but…" he looked over at Matt who was carrying a box to the garbage. "Somehow, I really don't care."

Sam walked over to Matt and Bridget waited with Dean, shaking hands with Larry. "Sam, Dean, Barbra, thank you…"

The three walked back to the car and Bridget slammed the door a little harder than needed. "Bridget, what is so hard about Bridget?"

"I don't know, Barbie," Dean said.

She leaned over and smacked him upside the head.

Sam watched Matt and Larry getting along out the window. "I wanna find Dad."

"Yeah, me too," Dean nodded.

"Me, three," Bridget chimed.

"But I just…I want to apologize," Sam said.

"For what?" Bridget asked, leaning over the seat.

"All thing things I said to him. He was just doing the best he could."

"Well, don't worry," Dean said and started the car. "We'll find him and then you'll apologize and then within five minutes you guys will be back at each other's throats and me and Bridget will play referee."

Sam laughed, "Yeah, probably…let's hit the road."

"Let's," she nodded and they took off down the road, never knowing what case would hit them next… Bridget sat in the back seat, drawing a house from a dream she had the night before…wondering if it had anything to do with the next supernatural case. She was just glad there were no bugs in the picture.


	6. Home

**S1 EP9 HOME**

This time Dean found it a little odd, both Bridget and Sam were drawing. Bridge in her sketchbook, Sam on a piece of paper. He clicked on the computer and kept talking aloud wondering if any of them were hearing him. "All right, I've been cruisin' some websites. I think I found a few candidates for our next gig. A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cal – its crew vanished. And, uh, we got some cattle mutilation in West Texas. Hey!" Sam looked up from his drawing, Bridget kept going but cocked her head slightly to show she was listening. "Am I boring you both with this hunting evil stuff?"

"No, I'm listening," Sam said and stared at the drawing.

"Keep going," Bridget said.

"And here, in Sacramento, man shot himself in the head. Three times," Dean waved a hand in front of Sam's face. "Any of this blowing up your skirt? I expect this from Bridge."

She reached over and poked him with her pencil. He ignored her.

Sam frowned suddenly at his picture. "Wait, I've seen this."

"Seen what?" Dean asked as Sam went through his duffel bag. "What are you doing?" Sam took out a photo and set it on the table, the trees were the same. Bridget leaned over and her eyes widened. The house in the background…she looked at her sketch pad then back at…it was the same house.

"Dean, I know where we have to go next," Sam said.

"Where?"

"Back home – back to Kansas."

"Okay, random. Where'd that come from?"

He showed Dean the photo and the drawing, "All right, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?"

"Yeah," he nodded and Bridget felt the blood drop from her head.

"And it didn't burn down right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?"

"I guess so, yeah. What the hell are you getting' at?"

"Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy, but the people living in that house I think they're in danger."

"Why would you think that?"

Sam glanced at Bridget. She looked away. He cleared his throat. "Just trust me on this."

"Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?"

"Yeah."

"Come on, man, that's weak. You gotta give me a little bit more than that."

"I can't really explain it."

"Well, tough. I'm not going anywhere until you do."

Sam looked at Bridget. She nodded her head, "You might as well tell him."

"Tell me what?" he looked at Bridget then back at his brother. "Sam?"

"I have these nightmares," he sighed.

"I've noticed," he nodded.

"And sometimes…they come true."

"You mean…like Bridget?"

"No," she shook her head. "I get flashes, like pictures and yeah, mine come true too…I've got pictures to prove it," she tapped at her book. "Sam's are different though."

"Come again?"

"Look, Dean," Sam took a deep breath. "I dreamt about Jessica's death – for _days_ before it happened."

"Sam, people have weird dreams. I'm sure its coincidence," he sat on the bed.

"How can it be when it happens to me?" Bridget said. "I've been like this since I was a kid. I get pictures of things too…I mean the hook man? My house on fire? The dark eyed blonde demon?...your house?"

"Our house?" Dean repeated.

She handed him her sketchbook and on the paper was an exact drawing of his house when he was a kid. "I've never seen your house, Dean, ever. I dreamt of that a week ago and now Sam draws the tree from the front yard? Not sure its coincidence."

"I don't know," he said overwhelmed and handed it back to her.

"This woman might be in danger. This thing that killed mom and Jessica might be after her," Sam argued.

"All right, slow down, would ya," Dean stood and started to pace. "I mean, first you tell me you've got the Shining along with Bridget's drawing dreams. And then you tell me I've gotta go back when…"

"When what?" Sam asked.

"When I swore to myself I would never go back there…" he said pain filled.

Sam spoke softly, "Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure…"

"I know we do…"

* * *

Bridget stared out the window at the old Winchester house. It was big, two stories and darkly colored, not a bad representation of the boys. Dean was staring at it, a dark sad look in his eyes. "Are you going to be okay?" she asked.

"Let me get back to you on that," he said grimly and got out of the car. They walked up the steps of the porch, Dean a little slower as if each step was painful and she was betting it was. The door opened and she saw the startled look on Sam's face as he got a look at the brunette. "Yes?"

"Sorry to bother you," Dean said. "But we're with the Fed-."

"I'm Sam Winchester," he cut off his brother. "This is my brother, Dean, and our friend, Bridget. We used to live here. You know, we were just drivin' by and we were wondering if we could come see the old place."

"Winchester," she repeated with a bit of a surprised look. "That's so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night."

"You did?" Dean asked.

She nodded and stepped aside. "Come on in."

She guided them into the kitchen where a girl sat at the table working on homework and a little boy was jumping up and down in a playpen wanting juice.

"That's Ritchie," she said. "He's a juice junkie," she handed him his sippy cup. "And this is Sari, Sari, this is Sam, Dean, and Bridget. Sam and Dean used to live here."

"Hi," she said and went back to her work.

"So you just moved in?" Dean asked, looking around the place that was the same as he remembered it.

"Yeah, from Wichita."

"You got family here?"

"No, I just, uh, needed a fresh start, that's all. So, new town, new job. New house."

"So how you liking it so far?" Sam asked.

"Well, with all due respect – I mean I'm sure you have a lot of happy memories here," Dean smiled weakly and Bridget slid her hand into his seeing the pain in his eyes. It was the least she could do and she was glad when he squeezed her hand back. "This place has issues."

"What do you mean?" Bridget asked.

"Well, it's just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We've got flickering lights all the time."

"Oh, that's too bad. What else?" Dean asked.

"Umm…sink is backed up. There's rat's in the basement…I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain."

"No," Dean shook his head. "Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?"

"It's just the scratching actually."

"Mom?" Sari said quietly and her mom kneeled down next to her. "Ask them if it was here when they lived here."

"What, Sari?" Sam asked.

"The thing in my closet," she said.

"Oh, no baby. There was nothing in their closets," she looked at the boys. "Right?"

"Right. No, no, of course not," Sam nodded.

"She had a nightmare the other night."

"I wasn't dreaming – it came in my bedroom – and it was on fire."

Sam, Dean, and Bridget's eyes widened at the same time and they exchanged glances. Something was definitely going on here.

* * *

"You hear that?" Sam said. "A figure on fire."

"And that woman, Jenny, that was the one in your dreams?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit."

"Yeah, well, I'm just freaked out that your weirdo vision is coming true."

"Well, forget about that for a minute? The thing in the house, do you think it's the thing that killed Mom, Jessica, and Derek and Lydia?"

"And my nephew," she added the last part.

"I don't know!" Dean exclaimed running a hand over his face as he drove.

"Well, I mean, has it come back or was it always there?"

"Couldn't have always been there," Bridget shook her head. "It got my family four years ago, remember."

"Or it could be something else entirely, you guys," Dean said. "We don't know yet."

"Well, those people are in danger, Dean. We have to get them out," Sam said.

"And we will."

"I mean now."

"And how are we gonna do that? You got a story she's gonna believe?"

"Then what are we supposed to do?"

"We just gotta chill, that's all. You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?"

Sam sighed, "We'd try to figure out what we're dealing with. We'd dig up the history of the house."

"Exactly, except this time we know what happened."

"Yeah, how much do you know or remember?" Bridget asked.

"About that night?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"Not much," Dean said. "I remember the fire, the heat…and then I carried you out the front door."

"You did?"

"Yeah, what, you never knew that?"

Sam shook his head, "No."

"And, well, you know Dad's story as well as I do…Mom was…was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long time gone by the time Dad found her."

"It has yellow eyes," Bridget said as they pulled into a gas station.

"What?" Dean asked.

"The thing, that shadow in the room…I remember when my brother was trapped…I saw yellow eyes fading behind him…"

"I thought you only saw the one that killed Will?" Dean asked.

"I saw that one better, well, at least to tell it had blonde hair and dark eyes. But the thing that killed my brother and his family had yellow eyes."

"Did Dad ever have a theory?" Sam asked Dean.

"If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times…"

"Okay, so if we're gonna figure this out we have to figure out what happened then. And see if it's the same."

"Yeah, we'll talk to Dad's friends, people who were there at the time."

"Does this feel like just another job to you?" Sam asked Dean.

"I'll be right back," Dean got out of the car and walked around the building.

"What's wrong with him?"

Bridget shook her head, "He was old enough to remember, Sam…it's not easy being able to remember…you just want to forget and most days you do, but coming back to where it started, that's ripping a band aid off a scab…it hurts…" She paused as her necklace became warm. She brought a hand up to touch it and felt the need to leave the car. "I'll be right back." She patted his shoulder and got out of the car, following her instinct, she had this feeling before back when they dropped Sam off at his place. But it wasn't hot like it had been then, just warm. She caught the tail end of Dean's conversation as he stood there on the phone back to her. "Whatever you're doin', if you could get here. Please…I need your help, Dad." He hung up the phone and she bit her lower lip walking closer.

"Dean…" she said softly.

He cleared his throat and rubbed at his eyes, "I said I'd be right back, but if you wanted to be alone with me you just had to say so."

She ignored his remarks and put her arms around him, hugging him, rubbing at his back. He relaxed into her, hugging her back, burying his face in her hair and she could feel the wetness on her shoulders from his falling tears. That was what her necklace was guiding her towards. Dean needed her. Sam was too young to remember any of it, but Dean had known his mother and this was opening old wounds. She knew what it felt like to lose your family, what it felt like to want to be held, to need it, but not be able to ask for it because you were too tough. But even walls fell down, and Dean's was breaking.

"It'll be okay, Dean…this will be okay," she pulled away and looked up into face wiping at his tears with her shirt sleeve. "We'll do this with or without John…you got me and you got Sam. We'll kick this things ass and move on to the next case because it's what we do."

"You're too damn smart, Bridge," Dean said with a smile. "Jack of all trades."

"I can be," she patted his shoulder. "Come on, let's get back to Sam before he thinks we're doing something dirty."

"We can, if you want?" Dean suggested.

"Real cute, but I'm not trashy enough to do it behind a gas station."

"First time for everything," he suggested.

"Dean," she warned him.

"All right, all right, sheesh. I tried."

By the time they got back to the Impala, Dean was Dean again, which meant he worked extra hard on annoying her…the day was just getting started.

* * *

After talking to the mechanic John used to work with they found themselves driving to a palm reader. Even Bridget found it to be a little hard to believe that John, of all people had gone to see a psychic. Sam was thumbing through a phone book, "All right so there are a few psychics and palm readers in town. There's someone named El Divino. There's uh," he snorted, "There's Mysterious Mister Fortinsky. Uh, Missouri Moseley."

"Wait, wait! Missouri Moseley?"

"What?"

"That's a psychic?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," Sam said.

"Bridge, hand me my dad's journal."

She pulled it from under the front seat and handed it over. Dean sat it between him and Sam and she leaned over to see, "Here, look at this. First page, first sentence."

Bridget read, "I went to see Missouri and I learned the truth."

"I always thought he meant the state," Dean admitted.

"The state?" Sam looked at him sideways.

"Well…yeah…shut up," he said and drove to the address in the book.

Bridget was now sitting between Sam and Dean on a red couch with a multi colored throw over it. An older black woman came out of a room, escorting a man out the front door. "All right, don't worry 'bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you." The man nodded and left. Missouri closed the door and shook her head. "Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold bangin' the gardener."

"Why didn't you tell him that?" Dean asked.

"People don't come here for the truth. They come here for good news. Well? Sam, Bridget, Dean, come on already. I ain't got all day. They followed her into the room with a nervous look. "Well, lemme look at ya," she chuckled. "You boys grew up handsome." She pointed at Dean. "And you were one goofy looking kid, too."

Dean's smile fell and Sam smirked, Bridget snorted. Missouri looked at Sam and grabbed his hand. "Sam…I'm sorry about your girlfriend…"

She moved her eyes, "Bridget…just as beautiful as I imagined…even despite all your tragedy you hold a good soul…and it's not entirely alone…" she tilted her head to the side looking at the three. "I take it John is missing."

"How'd you know that?" Sam asked.

"Well, you were thinkin' it just now."

"Where is he?" Dean asked. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know."

"Don't know? Well, you're supposed to be psychic aren't you?"

"Boy," she put a hand on her hip. "You see me sawin' some bony tramp in half? You think I'm a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can't just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please." The three took a seat and she looked at Dean. "Boy! You put your foot on my coffee table, I'm a whack you with a spoon."

"I didn't do anything!"

"But you were thinkin' 'bout it," she said and Bridget grinned smirking along with Sam.

"Okay, so our dad," Sam started. "When did you first meet him?"

"He came for a reading. A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you can say…I drew back the curtains for him."

"What about the fire? Do you know what killed our mom?"

"A little," she said. "It was the same thing that killed Bridget's family too…and even your fiancés death was connected to that demon," Bridget's eyes widened a bit. "Your Daddy, John, took me to the house. He was hopin' I could sense echoes, the fingerprints of this thing."

"And could you?" Sam asked.

"I…" she shook her head.

"What was it?" Bridget asked.

"I don't know," she said softly. "But it was evil."

"Why my family? Why theirs?" Bridget asked.

"Honestly, I don't know, hun," she said. "But you're thinkin' its back in that house?"

"Definitely," Sam said.

"I don't understand," she said.

"What?"

"I haven't been back inside, but I've been keepin' an eye on the place, and it's been quiet. No sudden deaths, no freak accidents just like Bridget's old house. Why, is your house actin' up now?"

"I don't know," Sam said this time. "But Dad going missing and Jessica dying and now this house all happening at once – it just feels like something's starting."

"There's a comforting thought," Dean mumbled.

"We best pay her a visit then," Missouri said standing up and grabbing her bag, heading to the front door without another word. The three exchanged glances and headed for the door. Bridget paused for a moment with a frown and looked over her shoulder at the beaded curtain covering another doorway. She felt like someone else was here…

"Bridget?" Sam called her name.

"Yeah," she turned from the curtain and the feeling, heading out the door. "On my way."

* * *

Dean knocked on the front door and Jenny answered a moment later holding Ritchie. "Sam, Dean, Bridget, what are you doing here?"

"Hey, Jenny," Sam nodded. "This is our friend, Missouri."

"If it's not too much trouble, we were hoping to show her the old house. You know, for old time's sake," Dean said.

"You know, this isn't a good time. I'm busy."

"Listen, Jenny, it's important," Dean started to say. Missouri smacked him in the back of the head and he turned to her shocked, holding the back of his head. "Ow!"

"Give the poor girl a break, can't you see she's upset?" she said to Dean before turning sweeter to Jenny. "Forgive this boy, he means well, he's just not the sharpest tool in the shed, but hear me out."

"About what?"

"About this house."

"What are you talking about?" she asked o the defense.

"I think you know what I'm talking about. You think there's something in this house, something that wants to hurt your family. Am I mistaken?"

"Who are you?"

"We're people who can help, who can stop this thing. But you're gonna have to trust us, just a little."

Jenny looked unsure at first and then nodded her head and led the way to Sari's bedroom. Missouri looked around, "If there's any dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it, just like Caleb's room would be."

Bridget's eyes widened again, "How did you know my nephew's name?"

Missouri smiled at her, touching her arm. "I know a lot about you, just like I know you're special, different but not in the same way as Sam…I know many things," she looked at her then at Sam then back at her and Bridget looked away, biting her lower lip. She knew about her and Sam, never a completely good thing but Sam seemed distracted by her swaying the room was the center.

"Why is this the center?"

"This used to be your nursery. This is where it all happened," she said and Sam glanced at the ceiling. She looked at Dean who took out a reader. "That an EMF?"

"Uh huh."

"Amateur," she said and Dean glared as the EMF went nuts. "I don't know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain't the thing that took your mom."

"Wait, are you sure?" Sam asked and she nodded. "How do you know?"

"It isn't the same energy I felt the last time I was here…it's something different…and Bridget isn't reacting to it."

"Huh?" she asked as confused as the brothers.

Missouri smiled sadly at her again, "As I said, you're special, dear. Different…just like your brother was…" she reached out and touched the chain around her neck. "Don't think his talent was wasted just because he died…"

"What does Derek have to do with this?"

"He gave you this necklace for your birthday, worked hard to make it for you, and you hardly ever take it off, if ever. It's reacted to things, hasn't it…guided you in a way you can't explain."

Bridget touched it, remembering the night Jessica died and it burnt when the demon was near and Sam was in danger…how it warmed when Dean needed someone to comfort him. "Derek…"

"No…just his gift to you…"

"So Bridget can feel it?"

"Not all the time, just when someone is in immediate danger, someone she loves," she said and glanced at the boys, her eyes lingering on Sam longer than Bridget liked. "If it was this demon, she'd feel something at least, her brother was killed by it, this is his last gift to her…just as I'm sure this," she touched the ring at the end, tracing the moon stone, "would react to whatever killed Will…"

"Then what is it?" Bridget asked.

"Not it," she opened the closet. "Them…there's more than one spirit in this place."

"What are they doing here?" Dean asked.

"They're here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected. Luckily, Bridget's house, despite all its tragedy managed to stay shut, I think that has a lot to do with Derek though, he was strong, different…and Will…well, that house is clean. This one, though, is infected."

"I don't get it," Sam said.

"This place is a magnet for paranormal energy. It's attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one. And it won't rest until Jenny and her babies are dead."

"You said there was more than one spirit."

"There is, I just can't quite make out the other one."

"Well, one thing's for damn sure – nobody's dyin' in this house ever again. So whatever _is_ here, how do we stop it?" Dean asked sternly.

Back at Missouri's house they were preparing for the night's house cleansing. On the table were different herbs and roots.

"So what is this stuff?" Dean asked gesturing at the table.

"Angelica Root, Van Van oil, crossroad dirt, few other odds and ends," Missouri said.

"Yeah? And what do we do with it?"

"We're gonna put them inside the walls, north, south, east, and west corners on each floor of the house," she said, tying up one of the pouches.

"We'll be punchin' holes in the dry wall. Jenny is gonna love that."

"She'll live."

"And this will get rid of the spirits?" Sam asked.

"It should. It should purify the house completely. We'll each take a floor. But we work fast. Once the spirits realize what we're up to, things are gonna get bad."

"Ohh goodie," Dean said. "Sounds like a blast, you sure we shouldn't team up? I don't like the idea of you and Bridget doing this on your own."

"I'll be fine on my own, and Bridget can take care of herself, she's pretty special at that," she looked at the girl who's eyes were attracted to the beaded curtain again. "Right, young lady?"

"Huh?" she glanced back around. "Yeah, yeah…I'll be fine on my own." She looked back at the curtain, wondering what was back there.

* * *

"Look," Jenny said as Missouri led her and the kids outside. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable leaving you guys alone."

"Just take your kids to the movies or somethin', and it'll all be over by the time you get back," Missouri said and Jenny hesitantly left the house. Missouri handed the herbs to each of them quickly without a word and Bridget took a hammer from the bag.

"Be careful," Sam called after her as she went upstairs, parting with him down the other hall towards the bathroom.

"You too…" she left walking into the bathroom. She glanced at the tile wall opposite the tub and used the hammer to make a hole in the wall, pulling plaster out to make the hole deep enough. She never noticed or heard the tub silently filling with water behind her at an incredibly fast pace. Once she got it deep enough she put the hammer down and reached for the herbs she had in her pocket. A force hit her chest knocking her back into the tub and causing her to drop the herbs. She sat up with a gasp before she was pulled back under, something holding her down as she thrashed in the water, clawing at the side of the tub. She got her head up again only to be forced back under. She pounded her hands against the side of the tub, her lungs burning. She was going to die, drowned in the bath tub. This couldn't happen, the others would be in danger. Sam and Dean would be in danger, she couldn't let anyone else die. She pounded harder, something inside her pounded with it, her mind throbbed with her hands impact and she pounded harder, mind moving frantically and the tub shattered on the last hit. Bridget spilled out, coughing and gasping on the floor. She grabbed the herbs off the floor and shoved them in the wall, falling back to her knees to catch her breath as a bright white light shone through the bathroom.

Instinct told her to get up, "Sam," she choked and ran down the hall to the room he was in. She burst through the door and found him on the floor, a lamp cord around his neck, his struggle with it weakening. "SAM!" She knelt next to him, trying to get it off but couldn't get it to come undone. In a panic, she grabbed the herbs next to Sam and kicked at the wall with her boot, it gave in the second kick and she shoved the herbs in. She half crawled, half ran to him, helping him unwind the cord and leant him against her, running her hand down his cheek as she held him. "Are you okay?"

He nodded weakly, clutching at his neck where the wires left imprints.

"Thank God," she sighed in relief and leaned her forehead against his, still rubbing his cheek, her heartbeat was returning to normal. "You scared me…don't do that again."

"Why…why are you wet?"

She smiled, "Wet t-shirt contest in the bathroom with a pissed off poltergeist. I think I won though."

"Tried to drown you?"

"Yeah, I kicked its ass," she said leaving out the whole breaking the tub with some unnatural force she couldn't understand.

Dean came into the room then, relieved to see them okay. "Oh thank God…I was nearly knifed downstairs. I was hoping it didn't get you two."

"We're okay?" Bridget said helping Sam sit up.

"Jesus, Sam," Dean inspected his brother's neck. "What the hell happened?"

"I nearly lost to a lamp."

He looked at Bridge and did a double take, "Uhh…why are you all wet, not that I'm complaining with that shirt."

"I was in the bathroom with my poltergeist, it liked the bath tub," she told him and they headed downstairs and they stood in the messy kitchen. Apparently it threw a fit.

"You sure it's over?" Sam asked.

Missouri nodded, "I'm sure. Why do you ask?"

Bridget felt it too…something wasn't over.

"Nothing," Sam said. "Never mind."

Jenny came into the house then and into the kitchen. "We're home," she caught sight of the kitchen now. "What happened?"

"Umm…sorry. We'll pay for this," Sam said.

"Don't you worry. Dean is gonna clean up this mess," Missouri said and Dean folded his arms over his chest. "Well, what are you waiting for boy? Get the mop?" He hung his head and walked away. "And don't cuss at me!" An hour later they were done and the three sat in Dean's car after dropping off Missouri and Bridget changed into dry clothes, wearing a pair of short and sneakers with a tank top and Sam's hoodie since she needed to do laundry. She had planned on doing that later on, but something still wasn't right.

"So tell me again why we're still here?" Dean asked.

"I don't know…Bridget and I still have a bad feeling," Sam said.

Dean looked at Bridget, "Really?"

She shrugged, "It doesn't seem right yet…that thing was freakin' evil…I felt it on me."

"Missouri cleaned it though, it should be over," Dean said.

"I just want to make sure," Sam said.

"Problem is I could be sleeping right now," Dean slunkered down in his seat and Sam and Bridget both caught sight of the window where Jenny was screaming.

"Dean look!"

"Oh shit…"

The three were already running to the house and inside. Dean pointed at the staircase, "You two grab the kids, I'll get Jenny."

Bridget took the stairs two at a time to Richie's room, grabbing the little boy out of his bed and hurrying to Sari's room where Sam scooped up the screaming girl with the fire creature in her room. "It's okay," he was reassuring her as he and Bridget hurried down the stairs. Sam put Sari down and Bridget handed him her brother as Sam talked to her, "Sari, take your brother and go outside as fast as you can, don't look back."

"What about you guys?"

"We'll be fine," Bridget promised her and an invisible force knocked into Sam, dragging him backwards across the floor and into a table.

"SAM!" Bridget yelled and ran after him. She entered the kitchen to watch him get flung into a bunch of cabinets. "Sam!" She stepped towards him but was shoved roughly backwards into the wall, hard enough to make her fall to the ground. The fire figure appeared and kept stepping closer and as Bridget looked at it she didn't feel afraid, not of that.

"Bridget! Sam!" Dean ran into the kitchen with his shot gun pointed as she climbed her way to her feet.

"Sam!" Dean shouted and raised his gun to the figure.

"No don't!" Sam said, still pinned. "Don't!"

"What? Why?" Dean asked confused.

"Because I know who it is. I can see her now," Sam said softly.

The fire vanished and a blonde woman stood there in a white night gown, smiling softly. Bridget recognized her from the pictures. It was Mary Winchester.

Dean lowered the gun, eyes wide as he spoke softly, "Mom?"

Mary smiled at him and stepped closer looking the exact same as the day she died, even wore the same nightgown. "Dean…" She walked over to Bridget still smiling at her, "Bridget…he doesn't blame you." That caused her to gasp. Her brother…she knew Derek?

Mary moved over to her youngest, "Sam…" tears slid down his face and her smile fell. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Sam asked.

She walked away from him and looked up at the ceiling, "You get out of my house and let go of my son." She burst into flames and flew into the ceiling, disappearing. The force holding Sam let go and he walked over to Bridget and Dean.

"Now it's over," Sam said.

"Thank God…" Bridget sighed. Mary's words had lifted something off of her…he didn't blame her for his death, for all their deaths. He wasn't upset with her. That, in itself, was a relief.

* * *

Dean was standing by his car later on that morning with the photos from Jenny. "Thanks for these."

"Don't thank me, they're yours," she said as Dean put the pictures in the trunk.

Sam sat with Bridget and Missouri on the porch steps. "Well there are no spirits in there anymore, this time for sure."

"Not even my mom?" Sam asked.

"No."

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"Your mom's spirit and the poltergeist's energy, they canceled each other out. Your mom destroyed herself goin' after the thing."

"Why would she do something like that?" Sam asked.

"Well, to protect her boys and their friend, of course." Sam nodded with tears in his eyes and Missouri put a hand on his shoulder. "Sam, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"You sensed it was here, didn't you? You and Bridget both, even when I couldn't."

Bridget shrugged, "I've always been sensitive to weird things."

"But you haven't, Sam," Missouri said.

"What's happening to me?" Sam asked.

"I know I should have the answers but I don't…it's not the same thing as Bridget…her and her brother were born with talent…I just don't know what yours is…"

"Sam, Bridge, you ready?" Dean called out to them.

Sam started walking and Bridge followed until Missouri grabbed her hand. She looked back at the woman, "You're destined for good things, dear…both of you are a match…things happen for a reason…just follow it. Don't stop fighting for it, even when you think it's gone."

"What?"

"You'll see, you'll know, you won't stop…" she smiled.

She nodded and remembered the curtain, "What…who's behind your beaded curtain?"

She smiled again, "I knew you'd sense something. That necklace of yours does guide you to the ones you love in distress, don't it."

"Bridget, move that ass," Dean called and she followed getting into the car, still confused by it all, but she had been right. Someone had been in that house. She just didn't know who.

* * *

Missouri was back in her house, walking through the beaded curtain into the back room. "That boy…he has such powerful abilities…so does Bridget, but you knew that when you met her…how Sam couldn't sense his own father, but Bridget sensed _someone_ at least…she just had no idea."

John sat on the couch, looking grim, twisting his wedding ring. "Mary's spirit – do you think she saved them?"

"I do," she said a sighed. "John Winchester, I could slap you. Why won't you talk to your children?"

"I want to," he said with tears in his eyes. "You have no idea how much I wanna see 'em, the three of them. But I can't. Not yet. Not until I know the truth…"


	7. Asylum

**S1 EP10 ASYLUM**

"So let me guess," Bridget said as Sam hung up the phone in the hotel room, turning a page in her book, pausing long enough to look at him. "Caleb hasn't heard from your dad either?"

"Nope. Neither has Pastor Jim or Jefferson. What about the journal, Dean? Any leads there?"

"No. Nothing I can make out," he shook his head with a smile. "I love the guy, he writes like freakin' Yoda."

"Maybe we should file a missing person," Sam said.

"He's not missing," Bridget said. "He doesn't want to be found. There's a difference."

"She's got a point," Dean said as his phone buzzed and he looked at the screen. "I don't believe it."

"What?"

"A text message. It's coordinates," Dean said and reached for the computer.

"You think Dad is texting us?" Sam asked.

"He's given us coordinates before."

"Dean, dad can barely work a toaster."

"Well, I did teach him how to text," Bridget admitted with a shrug. "Taught him to use a computer too."

"This is good news. It means he's okay."

"Was there a number?" Sam asked.

"No, it says unknown."

Bridget winced, "Yeah, I taught him to block his number too…I probably should have skipped that lesson."

"Okay…where does it point?" Sam asked.

"That's the interesting part – Rockford, Illinois."

"Why is that interesting?"

"I checked the local Rockford paper," he opened up a window on the screen. "This cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from work, shoots his wife, puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner respond to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum."

"Okay, I'm not following. What does that have to do with us?" Sam asked.

"Dad earmarked the same asylum in his journal," he flipped the book open. "Here. Seven unconfirmed sightings, two deaths – til last week, at least. I think this is where he wants us to go."

Sam started pacing. "This is a job. Dad wants us to do a job."

"I mean, maybe we'll meet up with him, maybe he's there," Dean said.

"Maybe he's not," Sam said. "He could be sending us there to hunt this thing alone."

"Who cares? If he wants us there, that's good enough for me."

"This doesn't strike either of you as weird?" Sam asked.

Bridget shrugged, "I haven't had any dreams on this place."

"We're going," Dean said and grabbed his keys. "I'll be back in thirty minutes. Gonna get the car tuned up. You two okay sticking here or you wanna tag along."

"We'll stick around," Bridget said.

Dean shrugged and left the room. Bridget put her hand on Sam's shoulders. "Are you okay?"

"This just seems weird," he said.

"It's okay. It's in your dad's journal anyway and neither of us has had a dream or nightmare in your case, about this place," she let her hand slide down his arm. "It'll be okay…and if it's not I'll make it okay."

"I guess you're right," he sighed rubbing a hand across his face.

She smiled at him sideways, pulling his arm, guiding him towards the bed. "And, you know, we have thirty minutes to make things okay right now…it's been a couple weeks since either of us has had a tune up…."

He laughed at the request, "You sure?"

"You're questioning sex?" she gapped in mock surprise. "Well, fine then. I can do it on my own."

He pulled her back to the bed, "Dean is going to find out."

"He hasn't yet. I'm very very sneaky," she smiled and pulled him onto the bed with her with a giggle, kissing him, using the remaining twenty-seven minutes to get a few things done.

* * *

Bridget sat in the pub, stirring her margarita with a small straw and watching Dean play reporter as he questioned Danny Gunderson, the dead cops partner. She could tell it wasn't going well and Sam would have to play good Samaritan and save Danny from the bad reporter. Sure enough Sam stepped into his role, grabbing Dean by the shoulder and shoving him towards the door before sitting down and buying Danny a drink for guy to guy talk.

She stood up from her stool, ignoring the guys watching her from the other table and the random cat calls. She went outside meeting Dean by the car. "Nice work."

"Eh, we knew he might not wanna talk to a reporter," Dean shrugged.

She leaned against the car next to him. "So now we wait. Sam's pretty social, he'll talk to him."

"What about you? Saw some of those guys in there looking at you," Dean observed.

She shrugged, "You get used to it. Besides I would have told them I was here with my boyfriend, that he was the strapping big guy out by the Impala."

Dean raised a flirtascious eyebrow and scooted closer to her. "Really?"

"Yeah…doesn't mean you are," she warned him.

He put his arm around her shoulders, "We should at least make it look real, you know. Just in case one comes out here."

She rolled her eyes but let it be, "Whatever you say but if you touch my boob or my ass you'll be falling on yours."

Luckily, Sam came out of the pub twenty minutes later and Dean hadn't dared touch her. He joined them by the car, leaning on Bridget's other side and she shrugged Dean's shoulder off her.

Dean looked at Sam. "You shoved me kind of hard in there, buddy boy."

"I had to sell it, it's method acting."

"Huh?"

"Never mind, you had your arm around Bridge anyway, method acting as well I'm guessing."

"Definitely," she snorted. "What did you learn from Gunderson?"

"So, Walter Kelly was a good cop. Head of his class, even keeled. He had a bright future ahead of him."

"What about at home?" Dean asked.

"He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but it was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids."

"All right, so, either Kelly had some deep seated crazy way to bust out, or somethin' else did it to him," Dean put together.

"Right," Sam nodded.

"What'd he say about the asylum?" Bridget asked.

"A lot," Sam said. "I'll tell you when we get to the Asylum."

She watched him get in the car, eyes wide a bit as she crawled into the back seat leaning over the edge. "Wait, wait, wait, we're _going_ there?"

"Yeah," Sam said as Dean started the car.

"Why?"

Dean smiled at her. "Don't tell me you're afraid?"

"Asylum's freak me out. Ever see _House on Haunted Hill_. Freaky shit."

"Nothing's gonna happen, you won't get sucked into the walls or anything," Dean said.

She leaned back pouting, arms over her chest. Nothing ever went right on hunts, why would it start with a freaky asylum.

* * *

Bridget hopped the fence with the boys and walked in, staying extra close to Dean as she did so. It was no offense to Sam, but Dean was a hell of a lot stronger and had been doing this a lot longer.

"So, apparently, the cops chased the kids here – into the south wing," Sam said.

"The south wing, huh? Wait a second," Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out his dad's journal, flipping to a page. "In 1972, three kids broke into the south wing. Only one survived. The way he tells it, one of his friends went nuts and started lighting up the place."

"So, whatever's going on, south wing seems to be the heart of it," Bridget said, stepping closer to Dean.

"Yeah, but if kids are spelunking the asylum, why aren't there a ton more deaths?" Dean asked.

"Looks like the doors are usually chained. Could have been chained for years," Sam pointed out.

"To keep people out…or to keep something in," Bridget said with a shiver. Sam stepped towards the door and it swung open easily. Bridget was gripping Dean's arm now as they walked through the south hall while he used the EMF reader.

"Let me know if either of you see any dead people," Dean teased.

She gripped his arm harder causing him to wince before letting go deciding to walk closer to Sam who didn't mind but glared at Dean.

"Well aren't ghost attracted to your guys ESP thing?" he asked

"It's not ESP, dumb ass. It's just a vibe thing…and Sam's nightmares," Bridget added.

"And your picture dreams," Sam said.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean shrugged.

"Are you getting a reading or not?" he asked.

"Nope. It doesn't mean nobody's home."

"Spirits _can_ appear during certain hours of the day," Sam admitted.

"And the freaks come out at night," Dean said.

Bridget whimpered. "Night? Back here…there are days I love my job, this is not one of them."

"Hey Sam, who do you think is the hotter psychic – Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or Bridget?" Dean asked and was double hit by Bridget and Sam. He laughed rubbing the spot as they entered another room. On seven tables there were jars preserving body parts and different tools scattered around the room. Bridget felt her stomach sink.

"Man," Dean whistled. "Electroshock, lobotomies – they did some twisted stuff to these people. Kind of like my man Jack in Cuckoo's Nest," he grinned at Bridget who rolled her eyes. "So, what do you think? Ghost are possessing people?"

"Maybe," Sam said. "Or maybe it's more like, uh, Amityville."

Bridget shivered, "Or House on Haunted Hill…except I don't think it's calling back survivors from a long lost fire…it's just playing."

"Yeah, spirits drivin' 'em insane. Kind of like my man Jack in the Shining," Dean said.

"Dean, when are we gonna talk about it," Sam asked.

"About what?" Dean said.

"About the fact Dad's not here."

"Oh, uh, let's see, never."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll just have to pick up the search later."

"I don't think he wants to be found," Bridget said.

"It doesn't matter what he wants," Sam said.

"See, that attitude, right there? That is why I always get the extra cookie."

Bridget swept his foot out from under him. He fell to the floor on his ass, glaring at her as he got to his feet dusting himself off, "And that's why I always got the front seat."

"Dad could be in trouble. We should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, this is our family we're talking about," Sam said.

"I understand that, Sam," Dean said. "But he's given us an order."

"So what?" Sam said. "We've got to always follow Dad's orders?"

"Of course we do," Sam gave him an annoyed look but dropped the subject.

Bridget removed the sliding plaque from the door in front of her. "Sanford Ellicott. You know what we need to do? We've got to find out more about the south wing, and see if something happened here." She handed the plaque to Sam. "And you seem like the one who should see the psychiatrist."

* * *

Bridget stood out of the building with Dean, waiting for Sam to come out of his therapy appointment and quiz session with Dr. Elliot the son of the Asylum doctor.

She grew bored of reading her book and tossed it back of the car, folding her arms over her chest as she leaned against the car. "You and Sam aren't a whole lot a like."

"You barely noticing," Dean snorted.

"Well, you're the daddy's boy and he's the rebel."

"Hey, I'm a rebel."

"Yeah, but not against your father, not the way Sam is. You do everything he tells you, no questions asked, while Sam thinks outside the box."

"What are you getting at?"

"I'm just saying I understand both of you when neither of you can understand the other. I know how Sam feels in some ways and I know how you feel in other ways. Just like you understand Sam's ways and you understand your father's, you referee them like I referee you guys…this isn't easy for him, Dean. He really wants to find your Dad and get this guilt off of him. He's having a hard enough time with whatever's causing the dreams."

"Well, you deal with it."

"Yeah, but I've been like this my whole life and I don't get the same kind of visions. I get snapshots of things that will happen, he gets things he can change. It isn't easy."

"I don't get it."

"I'm not asking you too, all I'm saying is try to see where he's coming from."

The door to the building opened and Sam came out. "Dude, you were in there forever. What the hell were you talking about?"

"Just the hospital."

"And?" Dean asked.

"And the south wing. That's where they housed the real hard cases – the psychotics, the criminally insane."

"Sounds cozy," Bridget said.

"Yeah, and one night in 64, they rioted – attacked staff and attacked each other."

"So the patients took over the asylum?" Dean asked.

"Apparently."

"Any deaths?"

"Some patients, some staff. I guess it was pretty gory. Some of the bodies were never recovered including out Chief of Staff, Ellicott."

"Wait," Bridget said holding up a hand. "What do you mean never recovered?"

"Cops scoured the place, but I guess the patients must have…stuffed the bodies hidden somewhere," Sam answered and Bridget paled.

"That's grim," Dean winced.

"Yeah," Sam went on. "They transferred all the surviving patients and shut down the place."

"Okay to sum it up we've got a bunch of violent deaths and a bunch of unrecovered bodies."

"Which means a bunch of angry spirits," Sam added.

"Ohh, good times," Bridget said and ran her fingers through her hair.

"Let's check out the hospital tonight," Dean said. Bridget groaned and got into the back seat.

* * *

She wondered what the hell she was doing here briefly. She didn't like psych wards. Haunted houses she could deal with but these places held the truly evil and most violent. And all they had was a couple flashlights, the EMF reader and a video camera…but Bridge had brought two shotguns, one slung over her shoulder. She thought ahead. She could hear the EMF reader going off.

"Sounds like you're getting readings," she said to Dean.

"Big time," he nodded.

"This place is orbing like crazy," Sam noted.

"There's probably multiple spirits out," she said.

"If these unrecovered bodies are causing this…"

"We've gotta find 'em and burn 'em. Just be careful though. The only thing that makes me more nervous than a pissed off spirit is a pissed off spirit of a psycho killer. Stay close…"

Bridget was already at his side. "Don't gotta tell me twice…"

"Here," he handed her the pistol and took the shot gun.

"You know, I know how to use those?"

"I know, I just like carrying the big gun."

She rolled her eyes as they continued walking on, hearing noises along the way but seeing nothing. Sam spun the camera around and his eyes widened as a spirit was walking towards them, her face distorted.

"Dean. Dean! Salt gun!"

"DROP!" Dean shouted and Sam and Bridget hit the floor as Dean shot the spirit and she vanished.

"That was weird," Sam panted and took the extra shotgun from Bridge.

"Yeah, you're tellin me," Dean said and Bridget scrambled to her feet, standing close to Sam.

"No, Dean, I mean it was weird that she didn't attack me."

"Looked like she was from where I was standing," Dean said.

Sam shook his head in dismay. "She didn't hurt me. She didn't even try. So if she didn't want to attack me then what did she want?"

"No, idea. Maybe a date," Bridge said with a shrug and they continued down the hall. A noise from the room to the right caused them to swing their guns in that direction and step into the room. Bridget stayed close to the brothers as they turned to a table, they lowered their guns when they found a girl crouched behind it crying.

"It's all right, we're not gonna hurt you," Dean said and she stood up. "What's your name?"

"Kat – Katherine."

"What are you doing in here?" Bridge asked her.

"Umm…my boyfriend, Gavin –."

"Is he here?" Dean asked.

"Somewhere," she said with a shrug. "He thought it would be fun to try and see some ghosts. I thought it was all just you know…pretend. I've seen things. And I heard things…and Gavin screamed and…"

"Okay, Kat. Come on, Sam's gonna get you out of here and then we're gonna find your boyfriend," Dean reassured her.

"No, no. I'm not gonna leave him. I'm coming with you."

"It's no joke around here, okay? It's dangerous."

"That's why I have to find him," she said.

Dean sighed. "All right, I guess we're gonna split up. Bridge you go with Sam and -."

"I can go on my own," Sam said.

"I can go with you," Bridge said.

"No offense but I know you don't like it in here and two paranormal sensitive people together isn't a good thing for a place like this," Sam said.

Bridget nodded. "He does have a point."

"Fine," Dean looked at his brother. "But be careful."

They split up then, the three going down one hall. "Gavin. Gavin," Kat called out.

Bridget looked at her, "Hey, I got a question for you, Kat. You ever see a horror movie?"

"Yeah."

"Do me a favor. The next time you see one, pay attention. When someone says a place is haunted, don't go in," she kept on walking ahead and Dean smiled.

He shrugged at her, "Girl makes a clear cut point."

They kept searching the hall, Dean, Kat and Bridge standing near each other. The flash light Dean carried started flickering and went out. "Son of a bitch," Dean sighed and Bridget felt Kat touch her arm. "It's all right. I've got a lighter."

The hand tightened suddenly. "Ow!" Bridget said suddenly. "Kat, you're hurting my arm, you're holding on too tight."

"Huh?" Kat said from a step ahead of her.

Bridget felt a cold dread, "Dean, are you touching my arm?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean said and shined the flame from the lighter towards her arm. Her eyes widened as she saw the decayed hand holding her arm.

"Oh my God!" she shouted just as the spirit snatched her and sent her flying backwards into a room, the door slamming shut.

"Dammit!" Dean shouted and tried to open the door, it was locked. He pounded on it when it wouldn't budge. "BRIDGET!"

"DEAN! Get me out of here!" Bridget pounded on it from the other side. She was officially freaking out now. No weapon, no way to physically kick this things ass and no way out. Not only that but she _hated _asylums. "DEAN!"

Dean tried pulling the door again but to no avail. "Bridge, hang on."

"Here try this," Kat handed him the crow bar and he tried pulling the door open with it, but nothing seemed to work.

Bridget turned around in the room and saw the spirit coming towards her with its distorted twisting face. She did the only thing that came naturally. She screamed. "DEAN!"

On the other side Sam and Gavin had found the others and he saw his brother and Kat trying to pull the door open. "What's going on? Where's Bridget" Sam asked.

"She's inside with one of them," Dean said.

Bridget shouted again. "Get me out of here!"

"Bridge, it's not going to hurt you," Sam said.

"Get me out, Sam!"

"Listen to me! You have to face it. You have to calm down!"

"YOU CALM DOWN!"

"She has to what?" Kat asked.

Sam continued talking to Bridget. "You have to listen to what it says."

"I have to what? Are you nuts!"

"The spirits – they're not trying to hurt us. They're trying to communicate with us. You've gotta listen to it, you've gotta face it."

"You are crazy!"

"No, it's the only way to get out of there."

"If I die, Sam, I'm haunting your ass!" she said but calmer now.

"Deal," he said. "Now just look at, that's all. You can do it, Bridge. We've faced way worse than this."

Bridget nodded. Though she was thinking she'd rather take on a Wendigo or Bloody Mary again. Slowly she turned around, pressing her back to the door and looked at it. It approached her slowly and leaned closer to her, whispering in her ear as she cringed slightly. Not every day she had a decaying guy in her face, not even in her line of work.

On the other side of the door the four stood there waiting nervously.

"Bridge?" Dean said.

"I hope you're right about this for her sake," Gavin said.

"Yeah…me too," he said feeling the heavy ball of guilt on him already. If something happened to her he'd never forgive himself. It would be the last straw to his sanity and the undoing of everything. Bridget was a vital part of him and Dean as well. The door clicked and opened and Dean rushed to her before Sam could, his brother really did like her, he could tell by the relived look in his eyes.

"Bridge," he brushed the hair from her face, one hand staying on her cheek, the other on her arm. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, "I never want to do that again…dead psychward guys whispering in my ear are so not cool…I'll take regular poltergeist any day."

Dean smiled, relieved she was okay if she was being a smart ass.

"What did it say, Bridge?" Sam asked, hand on her shoulder.

"One thirty-seven," she said. "It's a room number…can I please carry a bigger gun now…"

Dean dug through the duffle bag and handed her one.

"All right," Sam said. "So if the spirits aren't trying to hurt anyone-."

"Wait!" Bridget said holding her hand up. "You weren't sure it was only trying to talk?"

"No, not exactly, I was guessing-."

His words were stopped as Bridget punched him in the stomach.

"Sorry, I was guessing you'd see that coming," she said. "What do they want then?"

"Maybe," he wheezed standing up straight. "That's what they're trying to tell us."

"I guess we'll find out," Dean said and addressed their two guests. "So…now are you guys ready to leave this place?"

"That's an understatement," Kat said.

"Okay," he looked at Sam. "You get 'em out of here. Bridget and I are gonna find room 137."

Bridget walked the halls with Dean, flashing her flashlight against the walls. "Here it is," she said and pushed the door open slowly around the messy room. She searched the desk while Dean took to the cabinet. He pulled out a leather case full of papers. "See, this is why I get paid the big bucks."

"Dean, we don't get paid at all," Bridget reminded him.

"If we did, I'd get a good chunk," he said and Bridget walked over to look at it. "Patient Journal."

"Sounds interesting…"

He flipped through it which had horrifying pictures of human torture that made Bridget's stomach twist. "All work and no play make Dr. Ellicott a very dull boy."

"Let's go find Sam," Bridget said and Dean nodded. They backtracked to the front and were about to turn the corner. Bridget felt her necklace get warm around her neck and she grabbed Dean, "Look out!" They tumbled to the floor, narrowly missing the shot fired at them.

"Damn it!" Dean said. "Don't shoot! It's us!"

"Sorry!" Kat apologized. "Sorry!"

They stood up. "Where's Sam?"

"He went to the basement, you guys called him," Gavin said.

"I didn't call him," Dean shook his head.

"His cell rang," Kat said. "He said it was you."

"Basement?" Bridget asked and Gavin nodded.

She was already heading there before Dean caught up with her. "Why the rush?"

"We didn't call him, Dean, then what did? Because I'm betting it was Ellicott."

"We need to be careful," he said as they approached the stairs.

"Aren't I always?" she said with a smile. She took the stairs quietly, moving her flashlight around. "Sam?"

"Sammy? You down here?"

"Sam? Answers me."

"Sammy!" Dean called out and turned around, jumping as his brother was standing right in front of him. "Jesus, don't do that. You all right?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'm fine."

"You know that wasn't me who called your cell, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I know I think somethin' lured me down here."

"I think I know who – Dr. Ellicott," Bridget said. "That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us…" she paused, something didn't seem right with him. "You haven't seen him have you?"

"No, how do you know it's him?"

"Cause I found his log book. Apparently he was experimenting on his patients – some awful stuff."

"But it was the patients who rioted," Sam said.

"Yeah, they were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. He was working on some sort of rage therapy. He thought if they could vent their anger he could cure it. Instead it made them worse and angrier," Bridget explained.

"So I'm thinkin' what if his spirit is doin' the same thing? To the cop, to the kids in the seventies – making them so angry they become homicidal. Come on. We gotta find the bones and torch 'em," Dean said and Bridget nodded in agreement.

"How? The police never found his body," Sam asked.

"The log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here where he'd work on his patients," Bridget said.

"I don't know, it sounds kind of-."

"Crazy?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, exactly why we think it's down here," Dean said and he and Bridget started trying to find the hidden room.

"I told you," Sam said following. "I looked everywhere. I didn't find a hidden room."

"Well that's why its called hidden," Dean stopped suddenly, grabbing Bridget's arm. "You hear that?"

"Yeah…wind…but there aren't any windows."

Dean crouched, putting his hand by the space between the wall and the floor. "There's a door here."

"I think we found it," Bridget said and looked over her shoulder, eyes going wide at Sam pointing the gun at them, his nose bleeding. "Oh God, he got you…Dean…"

Dean tuned and stood looking just as shocked. "Sam…put the gun down."

"Is that an order?" he asked angrily.

"No, it's more of a friendly request."

"I'm getting pretty tired of taking orders."

"Ellicott got you, didn't he," Bridget asked.

Sam swung the shot gun, hitting her with the back of it hard enough to send her sprawling to the right onto the floor, her nose bleeding from the impact. "And I'm sick of you always taking his side and trying to be the peace maker."

"Bridget, are you-."

Sam swung the gun back around. "For once in your life just shut your mouth."

"What are you gonna do, Sam? The guns full of rock salt. Not gonna kill me."

Without a pause Sam shot him, sending him crashing through the wall. "No, but it'll hurt like hell."

"DEAN!" Bridget scrambled to him.

Sam grabbed her arm, pulling her with him through the hole before roughly shoving her to the side. "Don't make me hurt you any more, Bridge, because I will if you keep up with the interfering."

"Sam," Dean gasped on the floor. "We gotta burn Ellicott's bones and this'll all be over. You'll be back to normal."

"I _am _normal. I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? Because you're following Dad's orders like a good little soldier? Cause you always do what he says without question? Are you _that_ desperate for his approval?"

"This isn't you talking, Sam," Bridget said standing to her feet wiping the blood from her nose with a hand. "This is Ellicott, he's controlling you."

Sam shook his head. "You always have to right, Bridget. You always follow what Dean says and what my dad says without question. They're not your family. Yours is dead."

"So you just gonna kill yours too, then? Huh, Sam?" She asked him.

"I'm going to shut you up first," he said and back handed her into the wall before turning back to Dean. "So are you gonna kill me?"

"You know what? I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding dad today than we were six months ago," Sam said.

"Well, then, here. Let me make it easier for you," he took the pistol out of his jeans and handed it to Sam. "Go on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt. Take it!" Sam dropped the shot gun and took the two steps to Dean to grab the pistol.

Bridget looked at the shot gun on the floor and concentrated on it from where she lay on the ground. She stretched her hand out, willing it, pushing it. She felt the familiar warm rush in her head and tingle in her hands and the gun quietly slid the foot towards her.

Dean was still talking, distracting Sam from her as she stood up. "You hate me so much. You think you could kill your own brother? Then go ahead. Pull the trigger. Do it!"

Sam pulled the trigger causing Bridget to jump slightly as she held the shotgun in both hands. He tried again and again but nothing happened. Dean shook his head with a smile, "Man, I'm not gonna give you a loaded pistol."

"Sorry, Sam," she said from behind him and raised the butt of the gun and slammed it into Sam's head. He fell to the ground in a heap, unconscious. She dropped the gun and rushed over to Dean, helping him stand. "Are you okay?" she asked, looking at his shoulder. Not much damage.

"I'm good. How are you?" he asked noticing the bruise on her cheek and the dried blood from her nose.

"I've had worse…let' find this son of a bitch," she said sternly and they searched the room but found no body.

"Hey Bridge," Dean called and she turned to him. There it was in a white cabinet the rotting corpse of Dr. Ellicott.

"Oh that's just gross," she gagged.

He grabbed a bottle of gas from the duffel bag and Bridge took out the salt. Together they poured it on the corpse. "That's right, soak it up," Dean said.

The flashlight next to them flickered and a table flew towards them hitting Bridget and sending her across the room. She rolled a few times before coming to a stop, wincing slightly, pushing herself up back on her hands. Ellicott had Dean, hands on his face as Dean struggled to light the lighter. It dropped to the ground, lit a foot or so from the cabinet. This poltergeist bitch was trying to kill her family, had taken over Sam, tortured a bunch of people and she had been locked in a room by a dead guy…she was pissed enough for this to work as she stared at the lighter using her anger to fuel it. The lighter twitched and Bridget narrowed her eyes. It jumped into the cabinet torching the body and Ellicott disintegrated, letting go of Dean. She stood to her feet, limping over to Dean. "You okay?"

"Never better, you?"

"I'm good."

A few feet away, Sam woke up, slowly getting to his feet. Dean stared at him. "You're not gonna try and kill me are you?"

"No," he said, rubbing the back of his head.

"Good, because that would be awkward for all of us."

* * *

The five of them were now standing outside the asylum, dirty and somewhat bloody, definitely sore after the night.

"Thanks you guys," Kat said, the sun was rising up now.

"Yeah, thanks," Gavin nodded.

"No more haunted asylums, houses, clubs, garages, anything, okay?

They nodded and walked back to their car.

The three headed towards their own. Sam broke the silence, "Hey, Dean. I'm sorry. I said some awful things back there."

"You remember that?" Bridget asked.

"Yeah…it's like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it – any of it. I didn't mean what I said to either of you and I never wanted to hurt you."

"You didn't huh?" Dean mumbled.

"No, of course not," he said and Dean shrugged, "Do we need to talk about this?"

"No," Dean said. "I'm not really in the sharing and caring kind of mood. I just wanna sleep."

"Amen to that," Bridge said and slid into the back seat. "Oh, but wait, I'm agreeing with Dean when I shouldn't cuz, you know, he's not my family."

Sam winced at the jab, "Bridge, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, it wasn't me."

She nodded and rested her head against the window as Dean drove to the hotel. "Of course you didn't…just like you hitting me in the face twice wasn't you either."

"It wasn't…" he saw the bruise on her cheek. "Bridge, I'm sorry, I'd never hurt you…"

I know you wouldn't, Sam, but the fact it was your body that did it doesn't change the uncomfortable feeling," she admitted and was glad once they got to the hotel.

She didn't bother changing her clothes. She removed her shoes as Dean climbed in to one of the beds setting his phone on the night stand. Bridget climbed into his bed causing Dean to look mildly surprised, usually she bunked with Sam.

"I'm sleeping in your bed tonight," she told Dean. "Try anything and I'll smother you with your own pillow."

She was asleep a few minutes later and so was Dean. Sam wasn't far behind. Dean's cell started to buzz waking Sam from his sleep. He groaned. "Dean…phone." Dean didn't so much as flinch. With a sigh he reached over and grabbed it. "Hello?" he sat up suddenly, wide awake now. "Dad?"


	8. Scarecrow

**DISCLAIMER: Continued from Asylum. Bridget added in of course **

**S1 EP 11 SCARECROW**

Sam sat up in the bed, eyes wide and more awake than ever as he listened to the voice on the other end. The voice he'd been searching for the last six months.

"Sam, is that you?" John asked.

"Dad? Are you hurt?" he asked concerned.

"I'm fine," he reassured his youngest.

"We've been looking for you everywhere," Sam said. Bridget stirred slightly on the bed, sitting up on her elbow, hair still in her face as she listened to Sam speak. She figured who he was talking to and shook Dean as Sam continued on the phone. "We didn't know where you were, if you were okay."

"Sammy, I'm all right," he said again. "What about you, Dean and Bridget?"

"We're fine. Dad, where are you?"

That caused Dean to jolt awake at last and he jerked his head to Bridget who nodded without him having to ask.

"Sorry, kiddo," John apologized. "I can't tell you that."

"What?" Sam exclaimed. "Why not?"

"Is that Dad?" Dean asked his brother.

"Look, I know this is hard for you to understand. You're just gonna have to trust me on this," John said.

"You're after it, aren't you? The thing that killed mom and Bridget's family."

"Yeah. It's a demon, Sam."

"A demon? You know for sure?" Sam asked.

"Demon? What's he saying?" Dean questioned.

"I do," John said to Sam. "Sammy, I, uh…I also know what happened to your girlfriend. I'm so sorry. I've done everything to protect you from that."

"Do you know where it is?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I think I'm finally closing in on it."

"Let us help."

"You can't. None of you can. You can't be any part of it."

"Why not?

Dean held his hand out, "Give me the phone."

"Listen, Sammy, that's why I'm calling," said John almost sounding desperate. "You and your brother and Bridge, you gotta stop looking for me. Alright, now, I need you to write down these names."

"Names? What names, Dad - talk to me, tell me what's going on."

"Look, we don't have time for this. This is bigger than you think, they're everywhere. Even us talking right now, it's not safe."

"No. Alright?" he said sternly. "No way."

Dean wiggled his fingers, "Give me the phone."

Sam shook his head and Dean yanked it from him. "Dad, it's me. Where are you?...Yes, sir…Uh, yeah, I got a pen…what are their names? Got it…yes, sir…you too."

He hung up the phone and ran a hand over his face. "We got work to do."

* * *

Not more than an hour later they were in the car, driving down the road. Bridget had a slight bruise on her cheek and Dean's shoulder was still aching but other than that, things could have been worse.

"All right," Sam said, driving the car due to Dean's injury. "So, the names Dad gave us, they're all couples?"

"Three different couples, all went missing according to what Bridget dug up," Dean said.

"And they're all from different states and towns?" Sam asked, looking at Bridget in the review mirror.

"That's right. You got Washington, New York, and Colorado. Each couple took a road trip cross country. None of them ever arrived at their destination, and none of them were ever heard from again," she reported.

"Well, it's a big country. They could have disappeared anywhere."

"Yeah, could have. But each ones route took then to the same part of Indiana. Always on the second week of April. One year after another after another," she said.

"This is the second week of April," Sam said.

"Yep," Dean nodded.

"So, Dad is sending us to Indiana to go hunting for something before another couple vanishes?" Sam asked.

"Yup. Can you imagine putting together a pattern like this? All the different obits Dad had to go through?"

Bridget snorted, "I never would have pieced that together."

Dean nodded, "The man's a master," Dean said.

Sam shook his head with an annoyed look and pulled the car over, turning it off. Dean looked puzzled. "What are you doing?"

"We're not going to Indiana," Sam said sternly.

"We're not?" Bridget questioned, leaning over the back seat.

"No. We're going to California. Dad called us from a payphone. Sacramento area code."

"Sam…" Dean started.

"Dean," Sam said. "If this demon killed Mom and Jess and Dad's closing in on it, we're gotta be there. We've gotta help."

"Dad doesn't want out help," Dean said.

"I don't care."

"He gave us an order."

"Sam spoke firmly, "I don't care. We don't always have to do what he says."

"Sam," Bridget tried. "Your dad is asking us to work a job and save people's lives. It's important."

"Alright, I understand, believe me, I understand. But I'm talking one where here, to get answers. To get revenge."

"Alright, look, I know how you feel," Dean said.

"Do you?" Sam all but yelled causing both to jump. "How old were you when Mom died? Four? Jess died six months ago. How the hell would you know how I feel?"

That made Bridget angry, "Even if he doesn't I do, Sam. Sure Jess died six months ago, but my entire family that I had left died four years ago, okay? Including my fiancé, so yeah, I know how you feel? How angry you are, how hurt, how guilt ridden you feel. I get it. But your dad said it wasn't safe and as much as I want to kill the son of a bitch that killed them, I trust your father's words."

"I know you understand, but what I don't get is how you have such blind faith in the man. You're like Dean, you never question any of it."

"Because I trust them both."

"And it's called being a good son," Dean said.

Sam shook his head in anger and got out of the car. Dean and Bridget followed to see him unloading his stuff out of the trunk. "You're a selfish bastard, you know that?" Dean said. "You just do whatever you want. Don't care what anyone else thinks."

"That's what you really think?" Sam asked.

"Yes, it is."

"Well then this selfish bastard is going to California."

"You're not serious," Bridget said.

"It's the middle of the night," Dean said. "I will leave your ass here!"

"That's what I want you to do," he shouted back. Dean shook his head and got in the car.

Bridget shook her head with tears in her eyes and stared at Sam. "I thought you were the smarter one, Sam. The more mature because you were different, you were compassionate, you understood what it was like…but I was wrong…you are a selfish bastard and if you go to Cali you're just gonna get you and your dad killed because you know what that thing wants? It wants _you _because you got away that night…and you're walking straight to it…so you proved me right though…everyone leaves me, everyone I loves does die…have a nice life, Sam, whatever's left of it," she turned her back and got in the car, slamming the door and leaning her head in her hand as Dean took off into the night, leaving Sam behind. She fought the tears that threatened to spill over. A hand slid into hers, fingers interlacing and she squeezed Dean's hand, glad when he squeezed back. Neither spoke along the way, nothing needed to be said.

* * *

Once in Burkitsville, Indiana, Dean pulled over to the side of the road. Bridget watched from the corner of her eye as he pulled out his cell phone then put it back after a moment, turning the car off.

"He'll call when he's ready," she reassured him. "Right now, we got work to do."

She got out of the car with him and headed up to Scotty's Café where an older gentleman sat on the porch. "Let me guess," Dean said gesturing at the sign. "You're Scotty."

"Yup."

"Hi, my name is John Bonham, this is my girlfriend, Hermione Granger," Dean said and Bridget shot him a wide eyed death look.

"John Bonham, isn't he that drummer from Led Zeppelin?"

Dean looked taken aback, "Wow. Good. Classic rock fan."

"What can I do you for John and Hermione?"

Dean took out the missing flyer add from his jacket pocket and handed it to him. "I was wondering if, uh, you'd seen these people by chance."

"Nope," he shook his head. "Who are they?"

"Friends of ours," Bridget said. "They went missing about a year ago. They passed through here and we're already asked around Scottsburg and Salem -."

"Sorry," he handed the flyer back to Dean. "We don't get many strangers around here."

Dean nodded, "Scotty, you've got a smile that lights up a room, anyone ever tell you that?" Bridget nudged him with her elbow. "Never mind, see you around."

After four more stops they finally had answers and were headed that way. Bridget sat drawing with her feet up on the dashboard, sketching out a blonde girl with piercing eyes. She knew it was the demon that had killed Will, but the details of the face still weren't clear enough to get a good sketch. Still, she knew if she saw her, she'd recognize her. In a heartbeat. Aloud beeping noise caused her to jump and she put the sketch pad down, leaning over the backseat.

"What the hell?" Dean asked as she pulled the EMF meter to the front seat. It was going crazy. "What's causing it? Is it broken?"

She looked it over. "No, its fine," she looked out the window at the orchard field. "Pull over. Let's see what it is."

He did so and they both walked around coming up to a scarecrow, dark and creepy with a sickle in its hand. "Dude, you're fugly," Dean said.

Bridget kept staring at it and frowned, "Its tattoo…"

"What?"

"Dean, look t its arm…"

"What the…" he frowned and grabbed a ladder from a nearby tree to get a better look. He took out the flyer and held it up. The tattoo the missing man from last year had was identical to the one on the scarecrow. He looked back at Bridge.

"Let's go talk to that Emily girl at the gas station again…"

* * *

The girl looked up with a smile as they pulled up next to a gas pump, "You guys are back."

"Never left," Bridget said.

"Still looking for your friends?"

Dean nodded, "You mind fillin' the car up for me?" Emily grabbed the gas pump as Dean continued on. "So you grew up here?"

"I came here when I was thirteen. I lost my parents. Car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in."

"They're nice people," Dean said.

"Everybody's nice here," she said.

"So, what, it's uh, a perfect little town?"

"Well, you know, it's the boonies. But I love it. I mean, the towns around us, people are losing their homes, their farms. But here, it's almost like we're blessed."

Bridget raised an eyebrow, "You been out to the orchard? You seen that scarecrow?"

"Yeah," she shivered, putting the pump away. "It creeps me out."

"Whose is it?" Dean asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. It's just always been there."

Dean nodded towards a red van parked by a garage. "That your aunt and uncle's?"

"Customer. Had some car trouble."

Dean paused a moment. "It's not a couple, is it? A guy and a girl?"

Emily nodded. "Mmmhmmm."

Bridget and Dean exchanged a nervous glance. That couldn't be anything good.

They walked into the diner and spotted Scotty talking to the couple. "Hey, Scotty!" Bridget grinned. "Can I get two coffees, please?"

"Oh," Dean added. "And some of that pie, too, while you're at it." He and Bridget moved to sit next to the couple at a nearby table. "How you doin'?"

They smiled and waved.

"Just passing through?" Bridget asked.

"Road trip," the girl said.

"Yeah, us too," she said.

Scotty came over and refilled the couples cider. "I'm sure these people would like to eat in peace."

"Just a little friendly conversation, Scotty," Bridget smiled.

"Oh," Dean said. "And that coffee, too, thanks man." He turned back to the couple. "So, what brings you to town?"

"We just stopped for gas. And, uh, the guy at the gas station saved us."

"Is that right?" Bridget said.

"Yeah, one of our brake lines was leaking. We had no idea, he was fixing it for us," the man said.

"Nice people," Dean muttered.

"Yeah," the guy nodded.

"How long til you're up and runnin'?" Dean asked.

"Sundown."

"Really," he made a show of thinking about it. "To fix a brake line? I mean, I know a thing or two about cars. I could have it running in an hour for free."

"You know, thanks a lot, but I think we'd rather have a mechanic do it," the girl said a bit too snotty for Bridget's liking.

"Sure, we understand…it's just these roads aren't really safe at night here," she said.

"I'm sorry?" the girl said with a frown.

"I know this may sound strange, but I think you're in danger," Dean said.

The man started to get angry, "Look, we're trying to eat here."

"Yeah," Dean pouted in disappointment. Bridget's charm wouldn't work on this either. Damn Sam for not being there. "My brother has this puppy dog look and you would just buy right into it."

The door charmed as someone came in and Bridget saw the sheriff smelling trouble already. Scotty talked to him for a moment and sure enough he came straight for them. "May I have a word with you two."

"Come on, we are having a bad day already," Bridget sighed.

"You know I could make it worse?"

"Where have I heard that before," she mumbled and stood with Dean. They were forced to leave town and Bridget watched the review mirror to see the sheriff watching them.

"We aren't leaving are we," she said, eyes on the mirror.

"Not a chance in hell," he said.

She smiled. "I love it when you play rough."

He grinned sideways at her, "You have no idea how rough I can be."

"Let's keep it that way," she winked as Dean turned down a back road to the Orchards. Once there, they waited, the couple would be coming down this way and they were betting the car would break down from a now cut break line. He tossed her a shot gun and she tucked the pistol into the back of her jeans, putting extra shells in her front pocket. He slammed the trunk lid down. "Ready?"

"Oh yeah, killer scarecrow, just another day for us," she said and they walked into the orchard.

It didn't take long until she was running with Dean, shooting at the scarecrow that just kept coming and the couple that was running. They reached the clearing but it was gone, still they didn't put their guns down.

"What – what the hell was that?" the guy asked in fear still panting.

"Don't ask," Bridget shook her head.

They managed to get the couple out of town and she sat in Dean's car with him as he talked on the phone to Sam. He hung up the phone a few minutes later.

"Is he coming back?" she asked.

"No, but he helped a bit," Dean said and Bridget tried to hide her disappointment.

"We can get along without him," she said.

He nodded, "What do you think we should do now?"

She shrugged, "Talk to a professor at the community college. See if there's any folklore about this sort of thing."

Dean shook his head in amazement, "Seriously if you weren't here I'd be lost."

"I wouldn't leave you, Dean. You wouldn't know what shoe went on which foot if I did."

"I did that one time," he growled and started the car. "And I was drinking."

"You had one beer and you will never live it down."

They argued the entire way back to the hotel and the banter continued until they both passed out at long last.

* * *

As she imagined the community college was small and finding the professor of ideology's room proved easy. "It's not every day I get a question on Pagan ideology."

"Yeah, well call it a hobby," Dean said.

"But you said you two were interested in local lore?"

"We sure are," Bridget nodded, sipping her coffee.

"I'm afraid Indiana isn't known for its Pagan worship."

"What if it's imported? You know, like the Pilgrims brought their religion over. Wasn't a lot of this area immigrants?" Dean asked.

"Well, yeah."

"The town near here, Burkitsville. Where are their ancestors from?"

"Uh, northern Europe, I believe, Scandinavia."

"What could you tell us about those Pagan gods?" Bridget questioned, standing near Dean and sharing her coffee with him.

"Well, there are hundreds of Norse gods and goddesses."

"We're actually looking for one. Might live in an orchard," said Dean, draining the last of the coffee to get a glare from Bridget.

"Well, let's see," he looked at the large bookshelf behind him and pulled a thick book from it laying it on the table. "Wood god, hm?" He flipped through and Bridget noticed a picture if a scarecrow.

She backed it up pointing at the picture, "Wait, wait, who's that?"

"That's not a wood god," the professor said.

Dean read from the book, "The V-Vanir were Norse gods of protection and prosperity, keeping the local settlements safe from harm. Some villages built effigies of the Vanir in their fields. Other villages practiced human sacrifice. One male, one female," he pointed at the picture. "Looks like a scarecrow."

"I'd say so…" Bridget nodded. They found their creature and she wasn't looking forward to fighting a god.

Dean kept reading, "This particular Vanir springs energy from a sacred tree."

Bridget looked at the professor. "So what would happen if this tree was torched?"

"These are just legends," he chuckled.

"Oh, of course," Dean nodded. Thank you very much," he said and grabbed Bridget's hand. "Come on, honey, we need to be going."

Dean opened the door only to be met with the back end of a rife and knocked out. Bridget's eyes widened as she stared at the Sheriff. Before she could hit him and fight back, something heavy hit her head and she met blissful blackness, landing partially on Dean.

* * *

Bridget sat in the cellar with a headache, Dean feeling the same. "Should have known he was in on it…damn small towns," she mumbled. "Now we're gonna get sacrificed to a scarecrow."

"You know what we should do?" Dean said.

"I swear to God, Dean, if you say have sex I will kill you before the scarecrow does."

Dean thought it over, "Never mind then."

The cellar door opened and Emily was thrown in with them. Dean hurried to the door, trying to open it and Bridget stood to her feet, hoping her added weight would help but to no avail.

"I don't understand," Emily cried. "They're gonna kill us?"

"Sacrifice us," Bridget corrected her. "Which is, I don't know, classier I guess. Three of us though…guess cuz I'm just a pain in the ass and you might have figured out too much."

Dean looked at Emily. "You really didn't know anything about this did you?"

"About what?" she asked hysterically. "The scarecrow god? I can't believe this."

"Well, you better start believing. Cuz we need your help."

"Okay."

"Now we can destroy the scarecrow, but we gotta find the tree."

"What tree?"

"Maybe you can help us with that," Bridget said standing near her and Dean. "It would be really old. The locals would treat it with a lot of respect."

She thought about it for a moment, "There was this old apple tree. The immigrants brought it over with them. They call it the First Tree."

Dean asked, "Is it in the orchard?"

"Yeah, but I don't know where," she shook her head and the doors opened and six elders come in, headed by Sara, Emily's aunt. "It's time."

* * *

Bridget was now tied to a tree next to Dean, Emily on his other side and no matter how hard she wiggled, the ropes weren't coming loose. "So, I thought you only needed two people? Why am I here?"

"Well, you know too much," the sheriff said.

"And Emily."

"She was digging around too much after you two showed up and she doesn't fit in anyway with us. She's not a local."

"Gee…how many people have you killed, Sheriff? I mean, how many cars gave you hidden, clothes you buried?"

He turned away from her after checking her ropes.

"Uncle Harley, please," Emily cried.

"I am so sorry, Em. But you shouldn't have gone digging around."

"It's our responsibility, and there was just no choice. There's nobody else but you," she pointed at Bridget. "This girl is too different for his liking so we needed another."

"Different?" Bridget questioned.

"He said you were different. That you needed to be destroyed as well, but not worthy enough for a sacrifice."

"Hey, if we're talking virgin in the volcano then Dean is beyond impure," she argued.

"I'm your family!" Emily cried out.

"Sweetheart, that's what sacrifice means. Giving up something you love for the greater good. The town needs to be sage. The good of the many outweighs the good of one." The six elders walked away.

Dean growled. "I hope your apple pie is freakin' worth it!"

"So, what's the plan?" Bridget asked Dean.

"I'm workin' on it."

She nodded. A few hours later the sun was setting.

"You don't have a plan do you?" Bridget sighed, still trying to loosen her bonds.

"I'm workin' on it. Can either of you see?"

"See what?" Emily and Bridget both asked.

"Is he moving yet?"

"I can't see," Emily shook her head. But she did see a shadow. "Oh my God."

"What?" Bridget asked turning her head sharply trying to see the girl.

"Something is coming, oh my God."

Bridget tried to break the bonds but nothing would work, they were going to die…but then her ropes fell away and a hand was on her arm, helping her to stand. "You okay?"

She looked up into his face, into the blue eyes she thought she'd never see again and couldn't help the impulse as she threw her arms around his neck hugging him. "Sam!"

She moved back so he could cut Dean's ropes who was more than overjoyed. "Oh! Oh, I take back everything I said. I'm so happy to see you. How'd you get here?"

He looked a little embarrassed and cut Emily's ropes, "I…uh…stole a car."

Dean grinned, hitting his arm. "That's my boy! And keep an eye on the scarecrow. He could come alive any minute."

"What scarecrow?" he frowned.

Bridget and Dean spun to see the post empty. They exchanged a nervous look. "That's not good…" he grabbed Emily's arm. "Go. Go!"

"We gotta find the tree to destroy him," Bridget said. "There's a sacred tree brought from the immigrants planted here somewhere. It's the source of his power."

"Let's find it and burn it then," Sam said.

They hit a clearing and froze as elders stood there and a few other towns people, waiting for them. Dean motioned to the other way. "Let's try here." But that way was blocked as well.

"Please...let us go," Emily begged.

"It'll be over quickly, I promise," her uncle said.

"Please…"

"Emily, you have to let him take you. You have to -." He was cut off as the scarecrow appeared and his sickle was driven straight into his stomach. Emily screamed and Bridget jumped back, grabbing Sam's arm out of reaction as he put an arm around her protectively. Her aunt screamed as well before she was grabbed by the scarecrow. Everyone else ran away in fright and Dean took the opportunity to get out of there. "Come on, let's go."

The four started running again, Bridget keeping her hand in Sam's. They stopped after a minute but heard and saw nothing. The scarecrow had his victims. He was done. By morning they found the sacred tree. Bridget handed Sam the gas tank from the car and he poured it on the tree while Dean grabbed a branch and lit it.

Emily grabbed the branch from him. "Let me."

"You know, the whole town is gonna die," he reminded her.

"Good," she said with no expression and tossed the branch onto the tree. They stood watching it burn for awhile, no one saying anything. Sam slid his hand back into Bridget's and she stood there with her family, feeling complete again with him back. She knew once they had John back, the circle would be fulfilled.

* * *

Emily was on a bus a few hours later, leaving the town and the state behind to venture off to less deadly places. Dean waved as the bus drove out of sight. "Think she'll be all right?" Bridget asked, arms folded over her chest in desperate need of a bath.

"I hope so."

"And the rest of the townspeople?" Sam asked.

"Well, what happens to the town will have to be punishment enough," they started off towards the car, "So can I drop you off somewhere?"

"No, I think you guys are stuck with me," he said.

"What made you change your mind?" Dean asked and even Bridget wanted to hear this.

"I didn't. I still wanna find Dad. And you're still a pain in the ass. But, Jess and Mom – they're both gone. Dad is God knows where. You, me and Bridget…we're all that's left. So, if we're gonna see this through, we're gonna do it together."

Dean nodded, obviously moved by it, but of course he wouldn't let it be known. He sniffled and stepped closer to Sam. "Hold me, Sam. That was Beautiful," he hugged Sam who shoved him away and he went to Bridget who held her arm out blocking him.

"You should be kissing my ass, you were dead meat," Sam reminded him.

"Yeah right, I had a plan. I'd have gotten us out," he went around to his side of the car. "Let Bridget kiss your ass. It'd be gross if I did it."

Bridget stepped closer to him to whisper, "Maybe we can do that later." She moved into the backseat with a sly smile.

"Right," he nodded and got into the car as they drove off. Bridget sat forward between the two, continuing the banter, feeling more at home.


	9. Nightmare

**S1 EP14 NIGHTMARE**

Bridget was jolted awake by Sam's sudden movement next to her. By the panic in his voice as he was waking up Dean she took it to mean he had another precognitive nightmare. She laid her head back on the pillow with a groan. They were really starting to bug her when it came to interrupting sleep especially since she shared a bed with him more often. She'd been back to bunking with Sam the last two weeks since the asylum incident. Though she was starting to rethink that. Dean was a heavier sleeper and didn't have nightmares.

Dean rolled over and sat up, still half asleep. "What are you doing, man? It's the middle of the night."

"We have to go," Sam said, shoving his things back in his duffel bag.

"What? Why? Sam, it's midnight we had a long day," she yawned.

"We have to go," he repeated. "Right now."

She groaned and fell back on her pillows. "One more hour."

"No," Sam pulled the blanket off her and tugged on her arm to sit her up. "Now, Bridge."

She ran her fingers through her hair as she grabbed her jeans from her bag, trading her shorts off for them. She left the blue tank top she had on. "Starbucks isn't even open. "

"You're tellin' me," Dean grumbled, pulling his jacket on.

She zipped her boots up and pulled her pant legs down over them then grabbed her duffel and shoulder bag, climbing into the back seat of the car. "This better be freakin' important."

Not even an hour later Sam was on the phone to some police station giving them a bunch of information on a guy she'd never even heard of.

"Sam, relax. I'm sure it's just a nightmare," Dean said.

"Yeah, tell me about it," he mumbled.

"No, I mean it. You know, a normal, everyday, naked in class nightmare. Watch the info won't check out."

"You had the naked in class dream?" Bridget asked Dean.

He shrugged, "Once…scared the hell out of me."

"Why? Was it math class and they had a ruler?" she teased with a grin.

"No, that'd have been their nightmare. I'd have passed that test."

"This felt different," Sam interrupted the banter. "It felt real. Like when I dreamt about our old house and Jessica."

"Well, yeah, that makes sense, You're dreamin' of _our_ house, your _girlfriend_. This guy in your dream, you ever seen him before?"

"No."

"Bridge, have you had any picture dreams?" Dean asked her.

She shook her head, "None relating to a guy dying in his car."

"See, why would you have premonitions about some random dude in Michigan if Bridge hasn't had a picture dream to it either?" Dean said.

"I don't know," he said. Someone on the phone got back to him and he wrote some stuff down before hanging up the phone. "It checked out. How far are we?"

"From Saginaw?"

"Yeah."

"Couple hours."

"Drive faster."

Bridget sighed and pulled out her book. "There goes my coffee."

Less than two hours later they were pulling up to the Miller's house. Bridget looked over her book at the cop cars and paramedics loading a body bag into the ambulance. They were too late to stop Sam's vision. Dean parked the car a block away and they walked up to the scene. Dean turned to a nearby older woman who was observing the spectacle with a grim look on her face.

"What happened?"

"Suicide," she shook her head, a hand to her cheek. "I can't believe it."

"Did you know him?" Bridget asked.

"I saw him every Sunday at St. Augustine's. He always seems – seemed," she corrected herself, "so normal. I guess you never know what's going on behind closed doors."

"Yeah…I guess not," Dean said.

"How did- how are they saying it happened?" Sam asked curiously.

"I heard they found him in his garage. Locked in his car with the engine on," she said and the three exchanged looks.

"Do you know about what time they found him?"

"Oh, it just happened an hour or two ago. His poor family. I can't even imagine what they're going through."

Sam glanced at the sobbing wife on the porch and turned around, walking angrily back to the car. "Sam, we got here as fast as we could," Bridget told him.

"Not fast enough. It just doesn't make any sense. Why would I have these premonitions unless there was a chance that I could stop them from happening?"

Bridget shrugged, "Sam reason I get my picture dreams that I can't change…I just don't know."

"So, what do you think killed him?" Sam sighed rubbing at his eyes.

Dean shrugged, "Maybe the guy just killed himself. You know, maybe there's nothing supernatural going on at all."

"We're never that luckily," Bridget mumbled.

"I'm telling you, I watched it happen. He was murdered by something, Dean. It trapped him in the garage."

"Well, what?" Dean asked. "A spirit, a poltergeist, what?"

"I don't know what it was. I don't know why I have these dreams, I don't know what the hell is happening, Dean."

He looked at his brother with concern. "I worry about you."

"So do I," he let out a deep breath.

"Yeah well, come on. Let's pick this up in the morning. We'll check out the house, talk to the family."

"You saw how devastated they are. They're not gonna want to talk to us."

"Yeah, you're right. But I think I know who they will talk to."

"Who?" Sam asked.

Dean grinned and glanced at Bridget. "We still have that stuff from the church."

She nodded and her jaw dropped. "That's low…"

"It'll work…"

"What'll work?" Sam asked.

Bridget adjusted her glasses and straightened the skirt out to her suit as she got out of the car. She bluntly refused to be a nun to Sam and Dean's minister's. She figured grief counselor for the church would be more suitable, less embarrassing, and less points to send her to hell. She had leant Sam some hair gel to make his hair look neater and combed it back, twisting her own into a bun.

Dean rang the doorbell and Sam leaned in for a moment to him, "This has got to be a new low for us."

A middle aged man opened the door and Dean smiled politely. "Good afternoon. I'm Father Simmons, this is Father Frehley. We're junior priests over at St. Augustine's. This young lady is Miss Cat, the grief counselor at our church. May we come in?" the man nodded and moved out of the doorway.

"We're very sorry for your loss," Sam apologized as the man closed the door.

"It's in difficult times like these when the Lord's guidance is most needed."

The man looked at them agitated. "Look, if you wanna pitch your whole Lord has a plan thing, fine. But don't pitch it to me. My brother is dead."

A middle aged blonde woman came into the room. "Roger, please."

"Excuse me," he said and left the room.

"I'm sorry about my brother-in-law. He's just so upset about Jim's death. Would you like some coffee?"

"That'd be wonderful," Bridget nodded, her mouth watering at the thought of caffeine.

She ushered them into the living room where they took seats on the couch, Bridget sat across on a love seat. Ms. Miller came back in with a tray of coffee. Bridget tried her hardest not to drain the damn thing in a gulp.

"It was wonderful of you to stop by. The support of the church means so much right now."

"Of course. After all, we're all God's children," Dean said and Bridget took a drink to keep from snorting. Ms. Miller left again to get snacks from the kitchen and Sam glared at his brother. "What?"

"Just tone it down a bit, Father," he warned him.

Ms. Miller came back and sat next to Dean, putting the mini hot dog tray on the coffee table. Dean was quick to grab one.

"So, Ms. Miller," Bridget said. "Did your husband have a history of depression?"

"Nothing like that. We had our ups and downs, like everyone. But we were happy," tears came from her eyes. "I just don't understand how Jim could do something like that."

"I'm so sorry you had to find him like that," Sam said.

"Actually," she sniffled. "Our son, Max – he was the one who found him," she pointed to the teenage boy sitting in the other room alone.

"Do you mind if me and Miss…Cat go talk to him?"

"Oh, that'd be nice," she nodded and Sam and Bridget went into the dining room.

"Max?" Sam said. "I'm Sam. This is Bridget."

"Hi," he mumbled.

"So what was your dad like, Max?" Bridget asked.

"Just a normal dad," he shrugged.

"And you live at home now?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I'm trying to save up for school, but it's hard."

"When you found your dad…"

"I woke up," Max said. "I heard the engine running. I don't know why he did it," he shook his head.

"I know its rough…" Sam said. "Losing a parent. Especially when you don't have any answers."

"Uh huh," he mumbled.

Bridget glanced at Sam. They weren't going to get any further with this kid. Not now at least. They met with Dean who had inspected the house and all three came to a dead end.

It was back to the bat cave for them, also known as any hotel they stayed in. Dean was polishing his weapons as if they were priceless jewels and Sam was on his laptop leaving Bridget to clean her knife collection and her favorite gun.

"So, what do we have?" Dean asked.

"A whole lot of nothing," Sam said. "Nothing bad has happened to the Miller house since it was built."

"What about the land it's on?" Bridge asked, putting her knives back in order and rolling up her pack.

"No graveyards, battlefields, tribal lands, or any other kind of atrocity on or near the property."

"I told you, I searched that house up and down," Dean said. "There were no cold spots, no sulfur scents, nada."

"And the family said everything was normal?" he asked.

"Well, I mean, if there was a demon or poltergeist in there, don't you think somebody would have noticed something? I used the infrared scanner, man, there was nothing."

"So, what, you think Jim Miller killed himself? And my dream was just some sort of freak coincidence?"

"I don't know. But I'm pretty sure that there's nothing supernatural about that house."

Bridget frowned as she noticed Sam wince and rub at his temples, she felt her necklace get slightly warm around her neck…or maybe she was imagining it this time. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he grimaced. "Well, you know, maybe, uh – maybe it has nothing to do with the house. Maybe, it's just, uh – gosh – maybe it's connected to Jim in some other way." Suddenly Sam let out a gasp and clutched at his head from whatever pain he was feeling.

"Sam!" Bridget was already on her knees next to him as he fell to the floor yelling from the pain grabbing him by the shoulders, Dean right next to her.

"Sam! Hey, what's goin' on?" Dean asked. "Talk to me."

He was suddenly gasping, looking around horrified. "It's happening again. Something's gonna kill Roger Miller."

"Are you sure?" Dean asked.

"I just had a blinding vision," he nodded still sweating. "I'm sure."

"Let's get to the car then," Bridget said and she and Dean helped Sam to his feet.

He was on his cell phone with information a moment later as Dean drove. He hung up and gave the address.

"Are you okay?" Bridget asked, leaning over the front seat. "You're still pale."

"I'm good."

"If you're gonna hurl, I'll pull the car over, you know, cause the upholstery -." Dean was cut off.

"I'm fine," he repeated.

"Alright…" Dean let it go but Bridge new this would rear its head later.

"Just drive."

"Okay…"

Sam sighed a moment later, "I'm just scared. These nightmares weren't bad enough, now I'm seeing things when I'm awake? And these visions, or whatever, they're getting more intense…and painful."

"So I noticed," Bridget said. "I can't help you there though, my picture visions and…other things aren't like that."

"Come on, Sammy, it'll be all right," Dean reassured him. "You'll be fine."

"What is it about the Miller's? Why am I connected to them? Why am I watching them die? Why the hell is this happening to me?"

"I don't know, Sam," Bridget said and put her hand on his shoulder. "We'll figure it out though, okay? I promise. We face the unexplainable every single day, this is just another thing."

"No…it's never been us. It's never been in my family like this. Tell the truth, this freaks you guys out."

Bridget shrugged, "I'd be the pot calling the kettle black darling, but my brother was different too, so it ran in my family, least to me and my brother."

Dean shook his head, "It doesn't freak me out…I fought a scarecrow a few weeks ago, went up against Bloody Mary, got headed up in an asylum…this doesn't freak me out."

"It freaks me out," he mumbled.

She rubbed his shoulder, "That's because you're weird."

Sam pointed out the window at the guy walking towards the building. "There he is!"

Dean coasted alongside him, "Hey, Roger," Sam called out.

"Hold up a second," Dean said.

Roger saw who it was and looked annoyed. "What are you guys, missionaries? Leave me alone."

"Please," Sam begged and Dean pulled the car over so they could get out and hurried to the apartment building. "Roger, we're trying to help. Please! Hey, hey, hey." He tried to grab the door as Roger shut it and locked it behind him.

"I don't want your help," he said and walked away.

"Come on," Dean gestured for them to fall as he took them around the alley to the side of the building. Dean pulled down the fire escape ladder and climbed up letting Bridge and Sam follow. A minute later a crashing noise was heard and they all exchanged a look before hurrying faster up the countless stairs until they reached Roger's window covered in blood. Bridget put a hand over her mouth, trying not to get sick.

Dean handed her a rag. "Here, wipe your fingerprints down," he said and started wiping at the metal. "We don't want the cops to know we were here."

After giving the staircase a scrub while Dean checked inside for anything unusual they headed back to the car. "I'm tellin' you, there was nothing in there," Dean was saying. "There's no signs either, just like at the Miller house."

"I saw something in the vision, like a dark shape. Something was stalking Roger," Sam said.

"Well, whatever it was, we can be sure it's not connected to their house."

"No, it's definitely connected to the family," Bridget said, her stomach much calmer than before. "So, what do you think we got?

"Could be a spirit," Dean suggested. "There's a few that have been known to latch to families for years."

"So maybe they got involved in something heavy," Sam said. "Something curse worthy."

"And now something is out for revenge and the men in their family are dying. Hey, you think Max is in danger?" Bridget asked.

"Let's figure it out before he is," Dean said and slid into the driver's seat.

Sam shut the door, "Well, I know one thing I have in common with these people."

"What's that?" questioned Bridget.

"Both our families are cursed."

"Our family is not cursed. We just…had our dark spots…like Bridget," Dean pointed out as he drove.

Sam chuckled, "Our dark spots are pretty dark."

"You're dark," he muttered. "We better stop by the hotel."

"Why?"

"Bridget needs to be back in her dress suit and we need our Fatherly clothes."

Sam groaned and leaned his head back against the seat. "We are so going to hell."

Bridget patted his forehead, "It's quite a road to travel."

The high heels were bugging her the most. She didn't mind the suit skirt or the blouse. But the heels were becoming a bitch. She wanted her boots. Sure those were heeled but they were easy to run in and went up to her calves. This one showed the scars on her legs even with the stockings on. At least it wasn't a nuns outfit, that's all she could tell herself.

They were sitting in the living room with Max.

"My mom's resting, she's pretty wrecked," he said.

"Of course," Dean nodded.

"All these people kept coming with like casseroles. I finally had to tell them all to go away," he gestured into the dining room where the many trays covered the entire table. What was with casseroles being the food to cook when someone died? Bridget remembered getting a table full and then some when she was staying in a rented apartment on campus after her family died. She threw them away after awhile, never eating any just taking them from the condoling people straight to the trash can. Mac continued talking, "Nothing says 'I'm sorry' like a tuna casserole."

"How you holding up?" Bridget asked him.

"I'm okay," he shrugged.

"Your dad and your uncle were close?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I guess, I mean, they were brothers. They used to hang out all the time when I was little."

"But not much lately?" Sam asked again.

"No, it's not that. It's just – we used to be neighbors when I was a kid. And we lived across town in this house, and Uncle Roger lived next door, so he was over all the time."

"Right," Sam nodded. "So, how was it in that house when you were a kid?"

"It was fine. Why?" Max asked with a frown.

"All good memories?" Dean asked this time. Bridget watched Max, eyes intent since he started fidgeting at the mention of his old house. "Do you remember anything unusual? Something involving your father and uncle maybe?"

He became flustered, "What do you – why do you ask?"

Dean shrugged, "Just a question."

He completely shut down all emotion then, "No. There was nothing. We were totally normal. Happy."

"Good. That's good. Well, you must be exhausted. We should take off."

"Right," Sam said and stood up looking at Max. "Thanks."

"Yeah," he nodded and they saw themselves off.

Once the front door was shut and they were near the car did they start talking.

"Nobody's family is totally normal and happy. Did you see how he was talkin' bout the old house?" Dean questioned.

"Sounded scared," Sam nodded.

"I don't think it was the house either…I think it was his dad and uncle," Bridget noted as she got in the car. "He seemed scared of his past."

"Yeah, Max isn't telling us everything. I say we go find the old neighborhood and find out what life was really like at the Millers."

Luckily enough Bridget was wearing her regular skirt under the dress suit and a tank top under the blouse. Dean glanced in the review mirror as she let her hair down. "It's like a really good stripper show. Naughty teacher type."

"Eyes on the road buddy," she warned him as she removed the heels and rolled the stockings off her legs. Sam had already removed his priest uniform and turned around to the back seat to put it back there and grab his jacket. Bridget was working on the other stocking and didn't stop him when he slid his hand up her thigh to pull it down and remove it from her leg with a sly smile that made her want to pull him back there. She returned the haughty look and put her boots back on, handing him his jacket.

It wasn't long until they were at the old neighborhood and Dean took off his uniform, Bridget handing him his jacket as they got of the car and strolled up to the neighbor's house across the street where one was sitting outside on the porch, an older gentlemen who wasn't at all bothered with their questions.

"Have you lived in this neighborhood long?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, almost twenty years now. It's nice and quiet. Why, you lookin' to buy?"

"No, no, actually, we were wondering if you might recall a family that lived right across the street, I believe," Bridget said gesturing at the house.

"Yeah, the Millers. They had a little boy named Max," Dean added.

"Yeah, I remember. The brother had the place next door. So, uh, what's this about? That poor kid, all right?"

Bridget almost cursed herself for being right. Sam asked the question. "What do you mean?"

"Well, in my life, I've never seen a child treated like that. I mean, I'd hear Mr. Miller yellin' and throwin' things clear across the street. He was a mean drunk. He used to beat the tar out of Max. Bruise – broke his arm two times I know of."

Bridget shook her head in disgust.

"And this was going on regularly?"

"Practically every day. In fact, that thug brother of his was just as likely to take a swing at the boy, but the worst part was the stepmother. She'd just stand there, checked out, never lifted a finger to protect him. I must have called the police seven or eight times, never did any good."

"You said stepmother?" Dean questioned.

"I think his real mom died. Car accident I think," he glanced at Sam. "Are you okay?"

Bridget turned her attention to Sam and saw him breathing sharply, clutching at his head. "Shit," she mumbled and grabbed at his arms moving him away from the porch and the stairs before it hit him full force.

"Thanks for your time," Dean said and helped her move Sam to the car and into the passenger seat.

"Sammy, are you okay? What did you see?" she asked as he blinked a few times as it ended.

"Max…" he choked. "It's Max. Drive Dean."

And Dean did just that.

"Max is doing it. Everything I've been seeing," he said.

"You sure about this?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah, I saw," he nodded.

"How's he pullin' it off?"

"I don't know. It looked like telekinesis."

"So he's psychic…I thought he was different," Bridget said.

"I didn't even realize it, but this whole time he was there. He was outside the garage when his dad died, he was in the apartment when his uncle died. These visions, this whole time, I wasn't connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max. The thing I don't get is why? I guess because we're so alike."

"What are you talking about? That dude is nothing like you," Dean argued.

"We both have psychic abilities, we're both -."

Dean cut him off, "Both what? Sam, Max is a monster. He's already killed two people and now he's gunning for a third."

"What he went through – the beatings. To want revenge on those people, I'm sorry, man, I hate to say it but it's not insane."

"It doesn't justify murdering your entire family."

"Dean - ."

"He's no different than anything else we've hunted. Alright, we've gotta end him," he said and pulled the car over, shutting it off as they got there.

"We're not gonna kill Max," Sam said sternly.

"Then what?" Dean asked with a frown getting agitated. "I hand him over to the cops and say 'Lock him up officer he kills with the power of his mind'."

"Forget it, no way."

"Sam -."

"Dean! He's a person. We can talk to him. Hey, promise me you'll follow my lead on this one."

Dean glanced at Bridget who was more or less on Dean's side. "All right," Dean nodded. "But I'm not letting; him hurt anybody else," he reached across to the glove compartment and took out a glock, tucking it into his pocket before getting out of the car

Bridget agreed and knew that if it came down to it, it'd be his mind power against hers, and under emotional situations, she was a force to be reckoned with. Dean basically kicked the kitchen door down and they saw Max standing there upset and angry, Ms. Miller was still crying and Bridget noticed the knife on the counter that had fallen once they entered.

Ms. Miller looked confused, "Fathers?"

"What are you doing here?" Max asked.

"Uh," Dean cleared his throat. "Sorry to interrupt."

"Max," Sam gestured to him. "Could we, uh, could we talk to you outside for just a second?"

"About what?"

"It's- it's private. I wouldn't wanna bother your mother with it. We won't be long at all, though, I promise."

Max glanced at his stemother and nodded. "Okay."

"Great," Sam sighed. Dean turned and Max saw the gun in Dean's jeans."You're not priests!"

Dean removed the gun but it jerked out of his hand and Max grabbed it pointing it at them.

"Max! What's happening?" Ms. Miller yelled.

"Shut up!"

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Max jerked his head and she was flung into the counter falling to the floor. "I SAID SHUT UP!"

"Max, calm down," Bridget said calmly, holding her hands out.

"Who are you?"

"We just wanna talk to you," Sam said just as calmly.

"Yeah, right, that's why you brought this," he waved the gun he held.

"That was a mistake," Sam said. "So was lying about who we were, but no more lying, Max, okay? Just please, hear us out."

"About what?"

"I saw you do it. I saw you kill your dad and your uncle before it happened," Sam admitted.

"What?"

"I'm having visions. About you."

"You're crazy."

"So, you weren't gonna launch that knife at your stepmom?" he pointed at his eye. "Right here? Is it hard to believe Max? Look what you can do. I saw drawn here, alright? I think I'm here to help you."

"No one can help me!" he shouted at them.

"Let me try. We'll just talk. Me and you and Bridget because she's different too. She's been different longer than me. We'll get Dean and Alice out of here."

"Nobody leaves this house!"

"And nobody has to, alright. They'll just go upstairs."

"Sam, I'm not leavin' you and Bridge alone with him."

"Yes, you are," Bridget said with a nod.

"Look, Max, you're in charge here, all right?" Sam continued. "We all know that. No one's gonna do anything that you don't want to, but I'm talkin' five minutes."

"Five minutes," Max agreed and looked at Dean. "Go."

Dean moved and picked up Ms. Miller taking her up the stairs. Bridget and Sam moved with Max into the living room.

"Look," Sam said. "I can't begin to understand what you went through."

Max was staring at a letter opener , making it twirl, making Bridget uneasy. She felt her own telekinesis rising in her, waiting to be unleashed. Fear was a good initiative.

"That's right…you can't," he said.

"Max, this has to stop," she said to him.

"It will after my stepmother."

"No. You need to let her go," Bridget said.

"Why?"

"Did she beat you?" Sam asked.

"No, but she never tried to save me. She's part of it too."

"Look, what they did to you growing they deserve to be punished," Sam said.

"Growing up?" Max snorted angrily. "Try last week," he stood up and raised his shirt. Bridget was taken aback by the large bruise on his stomach and ribs. "My dad still hit me, just in places people wouldn't see. Old habits die hard, I guess," he pulled his shirt back down and sat.

"I'm sorry," Bridget said softly and watched the letter opener spin faster, putting her on edge.

"When I first found out I could move things, it was a gift. My whole life I was helpless. But now I had this. So last week, Dad gets drunk, first time in a long time. And he beats me to hell – first time in a long time. And then I knew what I had to do."

"Why didn't you just leave?" Sam asked. The letter opener clashed to the table causing them both to jump.

"It wasn't about getting away – just knowing that they'd still be out there. It was about not being afraid. When my dad used to look at me, there was this hate in his eyes. Do you know what that feels like?"

Bridget shook her head slowly and Sam answered softly, "No."

"He blamed me for everything. For his job, for his life, for my mother's death."

"Why would he blame you for your mom's death?" Bridget asked.

"Because she died in my nursery. While I was sleeping in my crib," he said and Bridget stared at Sam who's eyes were wide. "As if that makes it my fault."

"She died in your nursery?" Sam repeated.

"Yeah, there was a fire. And he'd get drunk and babble on like she died in some insane way. He said she burned up, pinned to the ceiling."

Bridget felt her head spin as flashes of her brother came to mind, him yelling at her to leave, holding his son, as the fire consumed the room and Lydia was pinned to the ceiling, enveloped in flame.

Sam spoke. "Listen to me, Max? What your dad said about what happened to your mom – it's real."

"What?"

"It happened to my mom, too, and Bridget's sister-in-law. Exactly the same way – in the nursery. My dad saw her on the ceiling."

"Then your dad must have been as drunk as mine."

"No, no," Bridget said, "I saw my sister-in-law pinned to the ceiling and my brother and nephew died in that fire. The same thing killed her, Sam's mom and your mom."

"That's not possible," he shook his head.

"This must be why I've been having visions during the day. Why they're getting more intense. Cause you and I must be connected in some way. Your abilities – they started six, seven months ago, right? Out of the blue?" Sam asked.

"How'd you know that?"

"Because that's when my abilities started, Max. I mean, yours seem much further along, but still, this – this means something, right? I mean, for some reason, you and I, were chosen."

"For what and what about her?"

"Bridget was born with it, she had her differences way before us. And I don't know but Bridget, Dean and I –Bridget, my brother, and I, we're hunting for your mom's killer. And we can find answers. Answers that can help us both. But you gotta let us go. You gotta let your stepmother go."

For a moment they thought he was okay with it, that he considered it, but his look turned dark and he shook his head, "No. What they did to me – I still have nightmares! I'm still scared all the time, like I'm just waiting for their beating! I'm tired of being scared. If I do this, it'll be over."

Max stood and headed for the stairs. Bridget and Sam were quick to move in front of him. Dean was upstairs and like hell she was going to let this kid hurt him. "No, you don't get it. I won't let you hurt them."

"The nightmares won't end," Sam added. "Not like this, Max. It's just mire pain and it makes you as bad as them, you don't have to go through this yourself."

"I'm sorry," he said and Bridget was flung off her feet sliding into a closet with Sam.

"No!" She stood and launched herself at he closed doors but a large cupboard was moved in front of it. She slammed her hands against it. "No Max!"

"Max no!" Sam shouted with her, trying to get the doors to open to no avail. Sam shook his head blinking furiously as a vision swept through him, clutching his head.

"Sam?" Bridget put her hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

He grabbed at her hand and she gasped as a vision flew through her mind. Max was standing in front of Dean the gun levitating in the air. It went off, shooting Dean in the head, the wall behind him covered in blood as he fell to the floor.

Bridget panted and tried to speak, still clutching Sam's hand, her other braced against the door, in shock at what she saw. She shook her head, "No…not Dean…"

Her anger boiled in her and her hand clawed at the door, "No…"

Sam was panting, sweating heavily and his grip tightened in hers. She shook her head again. "No! No! NO!" she shouted and the cupboard flew from the door, she heard it crash into the wall. Bridget pushed the door open, looking at the shattered remains of the cupboard as it lay in debris pieces. She glanced at Sam, not doubting that he had a part in helping her move it with that force with their love for Dean. Without speaking they both ran for the staircase.

Bridget burst through the door first and saw the gun pointed at Dean. "No don't! Don't!" The gun turned sideways away from Dean, as she pushed it away from him. Max seemed taken aback seeing as how he didn't force it that way.

Sam came in behind her as she moved her way to Dean, pulling him closer to her, she wasn't sure if she could stop a bullet with her mind but she'd rather be able to try from in front of him.

Sam was trying to reason with Max as she moved in front of Dean, "We can help you, alright? But this – what you're doing – it's not a solution. It's not gonna fix anything."

Max smiled faintly, "You're right…"

Sam seemed relieved and Bridget let out a sigh. The gun twirled in the air and Bridget had a moment to frown as Max pointed it at himself and shot himself in the head. Bridget jumped, grasping at Dean's jacket and he put an arm around her on reaction as she turned her face away to his shoulder. They couldn't help him, but that was a part of it…you couldn't save everyone…even if they were good and had bad in them…you couldn't save them all. She hoped Sam would understand that.

They were walking back to the car after talking to the police and the completely broken Ms. Miller who had lost her family in a matter of days. Bridget partially sympathized, but knew if the woman had stood up for her stepson just once this wouldn't have happened.

Sam shook his head, "If I just said something else. Gotten through to him somehow…"

"Don't do that," Bridget said.

"Do what?"

"Torture yourself," Dean finished on the same wave length with her. "It wouldn't have mattered what you said. Max was too far gone."

"When I think about how he looked at me, man, right before – should've done something."

"There was nothing you could do," Bridget said. "Even I didn't know he was going to do that or I'd have tried to hold the gun longer…he'd have done it in the end."

"What do you mean hold the gun?" Dean asked. "You were in front of me, not near the gun."

Bridget cleared her throat slightly scratching the back of her head, "I'll explain that some other day when we didn't go through a bad day."

"I'll tell you one thing – we're lucky we had Dad," Sam said.

Dean looked shocked, "I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"Well, he could've gone a whole 'nother way after Mom. A little more tequila, a little less demon hunting and we would've had Max's childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay – thanks to him."

Bridget shook her head, "Amazing. All it took was a kid who got beat by his dad and nearly killed us all to make you realize that."

Sam chuckled and they left to the hotel to pack and leave. Bridget put her sketch book on the table and crossed to the other side to finish packing her duffel bag.

"Dean, I've been thinking," Sam said.

"That's never a goods thing," he mumbled.

"I'm serious. I've been thinking – why would them demon, or whatever it is, why would it kill Mom and Jessica and Max's mother and Bridget's brother and his wife and son, you know, what does it want?"

"No idea," Dean said.

"I've been asking myself that for awhile, Sam, and I don't even know," Bridget said when he looked at her.

"Well, you think maybe it was after us? After Max, Bridget, and me?"

"It has no use for me, Sam. I've been different awhile."

"Then why did it kill your whole family in one night and not you?"

"I don't know, Sam," she sighed. "But I'm older than you and Max and my parents didn't die in a fire. So I don't know. I try not to think about it."

"Why would you even think it, Sam?" Dean asked.

"I mean, either telekinesis or premonitions, we both had abilities, you know? Maybe it was after us for some reason," he concluded.

"Sam, if it wanted you or Bridget, for that matter, it'd have taken you both. This is not our fault. It's not about you."

"Then what is it about?"

"It's about that damn thing that did this to both our families. The thing that we're gonna find and the thing we're gonna kill. And that's all."

Sam glanced at Bridget with an apologetic look and she frowned as to why, "Actually, uh, there's something else."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Oh, jeez, what?"

"When Max locked Bridget and me in that closet," Sam said and her eyes widened clutching her duffel. "That big cabinet door – the one that was shattered…it had, uh, been against the door…Bridget and I did that. We made it move across the room and shattered it."

Dean laughed, "You two need a little more body strength to do that, no offense."

"No, we moved it…like Max…"

"Oh…right," Dean nodded and grabbed a spoon off the table holding it in front of Sam. "Bend this."

"I can't turn it on and off, Dean. It was the first time I did that and it was mostly Bridget."

Dean snorted, "She gets picture visions, Sammy."

She rubbed at her head, angry that Sam spilled her last secret.

"How'd you do it then?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. We just did. I saw you die and when I grabbed Bridget's hand she saw it too and we were both upset and it just…it flew across the room like a freak adrenaline thing."

"Well, I'm sure it won't happen again," Dean said. "If it did at all."

Bridget let out the breath she'd been holding in aggravation and looked at the spoon. She jerked it with her mind and it flew from Dean's hand to hers. He looked completely shocked as he stared at his empty hand and the spoon now in hers. She set it on the table. "I can move shit with my mind and it's not adrenaline, it's emotion. If I'm pissed off or upset or annoyed I can move things. Sam helped, he can do it too I'm guessing but he's not as advanced in it and he can't control it."

"How- you…how long have you been able to do that?" Dean asked pointing at the spoon.

"About seven years, only when I'm emotional."

"I never knew. You didn't tell me," Dean said.

"Nope, Sam found out when I was trying to move the gun back in the house during the crazy ghost lady. And you never noticed random shit being thrown at you when you pissed me off?"

"Thought it was coincidence."

"How do you think I got out of the bath tub in your old house?" she asked referring back to the poltergeist that tried to drown her to stop her from purifying the house.

"Uh…thought you just did…"

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her sketch pad, "Least you know to watch your ass around me. I can control it better when I'm upset, but accidents happen."

"So you and my bro are the spoon bender twins," he said.

"Aren't you worried, man? That I could turn into Max?"

"Nope. No way. You know, why?"

"No. Why?"

"Cause you got one advantage that Max didn't have."

"Dad? Because Dad's not here, Dean."

"No, me," he smiled. "As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you. Now then, I know what we need to do about your premonitions. I know where we have to go."

"Where?"

"Vegas," he grinned. Sam and Bridget exchanged looks, rolling their eyes and heading out to the car with their stuff as Dean trailed them. "What? Come on, guys. Craps table. We'd clean up. Bridget could use her telekinesis to stop the ball in roulette."

Bridget rubbed at her temples, he was going to make it way too easy to hurt him and way too hard to fight the urge…it was going to be a looonnngg car ride.


	10. Benders

**DISCLAIMER: I Own nothing, just enjoy. More to come for those who care :) **

**S1 EP15 BENDERS**

Hibbings, Minnesota. Not exactly the vacation capital of the world unless you were into outback woods and possibly the sounds of dueling banjos and inbreeds. Bridget sighed in her police giddup. They never got anywhere fun like the beaches in Florida or the crowds of New York. Why was it the supernatural never disturbed the fun states where there was a mall?

She focused back in on the conversation they were having with Mrs. McKay in her living room. "I know you're just doing your job. I don't see why we have to go through this again. The more he tells the story the more he believes it's true." Bridget wanted to roll her eyes at the ignorance of adults when it came to things that made no sense in their fragile little worlds.

"Mrs. McKay, we know you spoke to the authorities," she said and Sam nudged her for her demeaning tone.

"But, uh, this seems like a matter for the state police so," Dean trailed off, not the best of liars.

"Don't worry about how crazy it sounds, Evan. You just tell us what you saw," Sam said with a small reassuring smile.

"I was up late, watching TV," the young adolescent said. "When I heard this weird noise."

"What did it sound like?" Sam asked.

"It sounded like…a monster."

Mrs. McKay smiled at her son, "Tell the officers what you were watching on TV."

He sighed, "Godzilla vs. Mothra."

Dean grinned, "That's my favorite Godzilla movie. It's so much better than the orginal."

"Totally!" Evan nodded.

"Yeah," Dean pointed at Sam. "He likes the remake."

"Yuck!"

Sam cleared his throat with a glare and Dean stopped. Bridget chuckled despite it.

"Evan, did you see what this thing was?" Sam questioned.

"No, but I saw Mr. Jenkins get pulled underneath his car."

"Then what?"

"It took him away. I heard it leaving. It made this really scary sound."

"What was it?" Bridget asked this time beating them to the punch.

"Like this…whining growl."

Bridget exchanged a look with the other two. Definitely time to go and try to figure this out. Not to mention change her clothes out since there was a bar in town and she was betting they had a pool table and her wallet was feeling a little light.

She counted her money as she strolled back over to the table Sam was sitting at. He pushed her unopen beer towards her as she sat down next to him, not looking up from his research. "How much?"

"Four hundred and seventy-five plus a watch and a lighter," she said and tossed the other two items on the table, tucking the money deep into her boot. Guys always lost to a girl who could work a skirt, always undermined her thinking a denim skirt and calf high boots meant no brain cells. Poor bastards were gonna be thirsty now.

"That's my girl," Dean smiled throwing another dart at the target, missing and hitting the black area.

She picked up a dart and stood next to him, throwing it. It hit just inside the red. She smiled at Dean. "I'm not your girl, I'm just better than you."

"I taught you how to do that," he argued trying to get his manhood back.

"No, you didn't. Pool hustling came from Will, throwing knives and darts at targets came from your dad, remember? He always gave you hell because I was better than you," she patted his cheek. "It's why I always got to ride shotgun." She sat back down next to Sam, "You find anything out?"

"Well, local police have ruled out foul play. Apparently, there are worse signs of a struggle."

"They could be right," Dean said. "It could just be a kidnapping. Maybe this isn't our kind of gig."

"Yeah, maybe not. Except for this," Sam opened his dad's journal and Bridget leaned in to look as well as Dean. "Dad marked the area, Dean. Possible hunting grounds of a phantom attacker."

"Why would he even do that?"

"Well, he found a lot of local folklore about a dark figure that comes out at night. Grabs people, then vanishes. He found this too – this country has more missing persons per capita than anywhere else in this state."

"That is weird," Bridget agreed.

"Yeah."

"Don't phantom attackers usually snatch people from their beds? Jenkins was taken from a parking lot," Dean said.

"Well, there are all kinds. You know, Springhill Jack, phantom gassers. They take people anywhere anytime. Look, Dean, I don't know if this is out kind of gig either."

"Yeah, I've had no picture dreams of this area," Bridget nodded.

"You're right. We should ask around tomorrow," Dean said.

"Right," Sam grabbed the journal. "I saw a motel about five miles back."

"Whoa, whoa, come on let's have another round."

"We should get an early start tomorrow."

"Yeah," Dean sighed. "You really know how to have fun, don't you?"

Sam smiled, "You can drop me and Bridge off then and come back then."

"All right," Dean nodded. "I'll meet you guys outside. I gotta take a leak."

Dean headed for the bathroom and Bridget followed Sam outside.

She nudged him with her arm a sly smile on her face, "Drop us off, huh? Thought you wanted an early start tomorrow?"

"Doesn't mean we can't have a short night."

"Short night? You going minute man on me?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm going for as long as Dean is out which would be a good hour."

"Uh huh," she smiled, cocking her head sideways. "We'll see if it's a 'good hour'."

A scratching skittering noise caused the two to stop. She looked at Sam who gave her the same cautionary look. He placed the journal on the hood of Dean's car and took a small flashlight out of his jacket pocket. Bridget stepped near him as he bent down to look under the car. She kneeled down and they saw a black cat that hissed.

"Whoa," he said startled and fell back, knocking Bridget over with him.

The cat ran off and she chuckled nervously.

He helped her to her feet. "It's just a cat."

"It's never just a cat, Sa. Don't you watch horror movies," she warned him.

"What do you mean?"

As the words left Sam's mouth a hand shot from under the car, grabbing Sam's ankle and knocking him of his feet. His head slammed into the asphalt knocking him out as the hand dragged him under the car.

"SAM!" Bridget yelled and reached for him, never seeing the truck that had pulled up alongside Dean's car or the man that had stepped out, hitting her over the head. She hit the ground unconscious before ever reaching Sam.

"Bridget…Bridget! Please wake up," she heard someone calling her name and moved her stiff joints but didn't get to move them far as her foot hit something metal. She let out a small groan, her head was pounding.

"That's it," she felt fingers touching her leg and sat up slowly, opening her eyes. The room was dark and dingy and worst of all she was in a cage.

She rubbed the back of her head softly, feeling the knot there, "Where are we?"

"No idea, but we're locked in cages and I got another guy on the other side of me," Sam said and she sat closer to the side of her cage that connected with his.

"Talk about inside information," she mumbled.

He chuckled in relief, "Are you okay?"

"Besides being locked up like the bitch I can be and the headache I have, I'm good. You?"

"Same with the headache. But we're no closer to figuring out what has us or why."

"So much for the good hour you promised me."

He chuckled and leaned his back against the cage next to her, "Do you ever lose your humor and panic?"

"Not really. Not sure though, I've been in worse situations."

"True."

"I'm sure about one thing though."

"What's that?"

"Dean is going to kill whatever son of a bitch has us to get us back."

Sam nodded, "That I do believe…but there's gotta be a way out of here."

Bridget rattled the door of the cage. "It's pretty sturdy…and I didn't tuck a knife in my boot for once."

"There's gotta be a way to loosen the door…get it to open…" he kicked at the door, but it wouldn't budge. After the fourth kick the guy on his left woke up. Bridget leaned over to the farthest side of her cage while Same moved to talk to him through the bars of his cage.

"Hey, you okay?" Sam asked the man.

"Does it look like I'm doin' okay?" he grumbled.

"Can you tell us where we are?" Bridget asked from a cage over.

He shrugged. "I don't know. The country, I think. Smells like the country."

"You're Alvin Jenkins aren't you?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," he nodded.

Sam sighed, "We were looking for you."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," Bridget nodded.

"Well, no offense, but this is a piss poor rescue," he snorted.

"Well, my brother's out there right now, too. He's looking for us. So -,"

"So, he's not gonna find us," Jenkins interrupted. "We're in the middle of nowhere," he gestured at the door leading into the building. "Waiting for them to come back and do God-knows-what to us."

"Who are they?" Bridget asked. "Have you seen them?"

"What are you talking about, girl?"

"Whoever has us what do the look like?" Sam clarified.

"See for yourself," Jenkins said as he heard the door rattle. Two men in black coats and hats walked in. One kicked Jenkins cage. The other went to a panel of buttons attached to a pole on the other side of the room. The man near Jenkins entered a key into the panel and twisted it. The door opened and he shoved a plate of food inside. The man twists the key in the panel again and removes it causing the cages to lock. Jenkins started to devour his food.

Bridget looked at Sam, "Something isn't right about this."

He nodded, "I was thinking the same thing…least we know they're just people."

"What were you expecting?" Jenkins asked, finishing his plate.

Sam glanced at the plate, "How often do they feed us?"

"Once a day, and they use that thing over there to open the cage," he pointed at the panel.

"And that's the only time you see them?" Bridget asked with a frown.

"So far. But I'm waitin'."

"Waiting for what?" Sam asked.

"Ned Beatty time, man."

"I think that's the least of your worries right now," Sam sighed and leaned his back against the cage.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What do you two think they want, then?"

"Depends on who they are," Sam reached through the top of his cage and Bridget watched him curiously as he grabbed a long metal wire stretching from the top pole to the ground and pulled on it.

"They're a bunch of psycho hillbilly rednecks, if you ask me. Lookin' for love in all the wrong places except with that pretty little thing to your right."

Bridget glared. "It'll be a cold day in hell when I let them touch me."

"Might not have a choice."

"I'll die first," she said. "And I'll take one of them with me."

Sam continued to pull on the wire that started to detach itself from the pole. "They won't touch her."

"You gonna stop 'em if they try?"

Sam nodded, "Yes."

Jenkins snorted, "Knight in Shining armor…"

Bridget leaned back against the cage ignoring the snide comments from Jenkins and watched Sam try to pull the wire down. She hoped Dean would be here soon. She drew her knees closer to her and wrapped her arms around her legs. Her hand touched the knife hidden in her boot, if they did try anything she'd at least be ready.

An hour had passed though it felt like longer from where Bridget sat. Her legs were cramping and her lower back hurt, no position she could move into was comfortable. But at least the _Deliverance_ boys hadn't been back. Next to her Sam was still working on the coil spring.

"What's your name again, boy?" Jenkins asked.

"It's Sam," he grunted.

"Why don't you give it up, Sammy, there's no way out."

"Don't…call…me…Sammy!" he gritted through his teeth, pulling harder at the wire and finally tearing it down. A small piece of metal fell to the floor, Bridget grinned. It was a start at least.

"What is it?" Jenkins asked.

"It's a bracket."

Jenkins snorted and rolled his eyes, "Well, thank God, a bracket. Now we've got 'em, huh?"

Bridget was about to say something when suddenly Jenkins cage opened. She looked at the bracket Sam had and the wires above the cage. Nothing he pulled down would have caused it to open, something definitely wasn't right but Jenkins took no notice, "Must've been a short," he said and climbed out. "Maybe you knocked somethin' loose."

Sam felt the wrongness in it as well. "I think you should get back in your cage, Jenkins."

"What?" he exclaimed.

"This isn't right," Bridget shook her head.

"Don't you wanna get out of here?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "But that was way too easy."

"Look," he said and held up a hand heading for the backdoor. "I'm gonna get out of here and I'm gonna send help, okay, don't worry."

"No, I'm serious. Jenkins – this might be a trap," Bridget warned him, grabbing the bars.

"Bye, Sammy and pretty girl," he pushed the door open and disappeared into the night.

"Shit!" she exclaimed kicking at the door as she leaned back towards Sam. "Dumbass…"

"We tried," Sam sighed. Jenkins cage door slammed shut.

"He's gonna get himself killed," Bridget said.

A piercing scream filled the air and she closed her eyes as her suspicion was confirmed. Sam's hand touched her arm through the bars. "I think he did get himself killed."

She moved her arm from under his touch to hold it in her own hand, needing the comfort of someone's touch because, for once, she didn't know how they would get out of this.

Not even an hour later the two men brought another person into the cage room, locking the dark haired woman in a cage across from them. They left without so much a word, slamming the door behind them.

"Well…we got new company," Bridget sighed jerking her chin towards the unconscious woman.

"More for them to collect," Sam said.

"I wonder where Dean's at," she said.

"He'll be coming for us, I'm sure of it," Sam said.

"I hope you're right."

The woman across the way let out a groan and they both turned their attention to her as she sat up rubbing her head.

"You all right?" Sam asked.

She looked up at them, acknowledgment crossing her soft features. "Are you Sam Winchester and Bridget Torletto?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded exchanging a look with Bridget.

"Your, uh, your cousin's looking for you, Sam."

Bridget let out a sigh of relief, leaning her head against the bars. "Thank God."

"Yeah, he was worried about you too, Bridget, since you're his fiancé and all."

Her grip tightened and the bars and she looked at Sam who chuckled. "Where is he?" Sam asked.

"I, uh – I cuffed him to my car," she said sheepishly.

The door opened and Bridget prepared herself for the two rednecks but Dean entered with a look of disgust on his face, taking in the barn scene. "Sam? Bridget? Are you guys hurt?"

"No," Sam shook his head, happy to see him. Even Bridget had to admit it was a relief.

"It's good to see you, guys," he said.

"How did you get the cuffs off?" Kathleen asked from across the way.

"Oh, I know a trick or two," Dean grinned and pointed at Bridge. "She's a feisty one."

She glared at him, "I'm gonna be _real _feisty later, doll."

Dean cleared his throat and looked at the locks on the cages. "Alright…oh these locks look like a bitch."

"Well, there's some kind of automatic control right there," Sam pointed at the control panel on the pole.

"Have you seen 'em?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," nodded Bridget. "They're just people."

"And they jumped you guys?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Must be gettin' a little rusty," he moved to the control panel and started trying different buttons. "What do they want?"

"I don't know. They let Jenkins go, but that was some sort of trap. It doesn't make any sense to me."

"Well, that's the point. You know, with our usual playmates, there's rules, there's patterns. But with people, they're just crazy."

"Did you see anything else out there?" asked Bridget.

"Uhh, he has about a dozen junked cars hidden out back. Plates from all over, so I'm thinkin' when they take someone, they take their car too."

"Did you see a black Mustang out there? About ten years old?" Kathleen asked, gripping the bars, eyes wide.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Actually I did."

Her face fell and she leaned it against the bars.

"Your brothers?" he asked and she nodded. "I'm sorry…let's get you guys out of here then we'll take care of those bastards…damn this thing takes a key," he looked at Sam and Bridget. "Key?"

"I don't know," she shrugged.

"All right," he sighed. "I better go find it."

"Dean," Sam called out and his brother turned around. "Be careful.

"Yeah," he nodded slowly and left.

"Do you think he'll find it?" Kathleen asked.

"I hope so," Sam let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry about your brother…"

She nodded, "They'll pay for it…they all will. Soon as I get out of here."

"Dean's resourceful, he'll find it."

Bridget touched her necklace suddenly feeling it warm slightly just as it had when Sam had been in trouble months back. "Dean!"

Sam jerked his head to her, taking in her hand gripping her necklace and the scared look on her face. He reached through the bars and touched her hand, "Bridget? What is it? What did you see?"

"No, not see. Felt it," she said with a deep breath and bit her lower lip. "They have Dean."

Sam's eyes widened, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I only feel it when you guys are in trouble," she nodded. "And Dean is in trouble."

"Then so are we," Kathleen said across the way.

The door opened and a guy came in, the one named Lee. He inserted a key into the control panel and Sam's door opened. Bridget's eyes widened as he walked towards Sam, gun in hand.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked him, his hand grabbing the bracket off the floor. Lee aimed his gun at Sam.

"Hey!" Bridget shouted and pulled with her mind. Her emotions weren't strong enough but she did manage to pull him off balance giving Sam the opportunity to lunge at him and causing the gun to go off in the wrong direction. Sam grabbed the gun from Lee's hand and slammed him in the face three times, knocking him out. He tried to fire the gun but it wouldn't work. "Dammit."

He moved to the control panel and opened the rest of the cages. Bridget climbed out, her back cracking in three different spots and preceded to pop her neck, feeling more human.

"Help me move him," Sam said and she grabbed Lee's feet, shoving him into the cage and locking it.

"Now what?" Kathleen asked.

"We hide," Sam said, grabbing Bridget's hand and moving her towards the cabinet. "Kathleen will hide inside, you climb on top."

"Where are you hiding?" she asked him. He pointed to the other side where there were bales of hay.

"I'll be over there," he said.

"I'll go with you."

"No, you stay here."

"But-."

He cut her off, "She'll need your help, I won't."

Bridget nodded, knowing he was right. "Kathleen, get in the cabinet, top side shelf."

Without an argument she climbed in and Bridget maneuvered on top, lying flat on the large piece of furniture, ignoring the dust, soot, and other things that were getting on her clothes and bare legs. Moments later Jared and Pa entered looking for Lee. The light switch wouldn't work and she imagined Sam must have cut the wire. Jared came towards her area of the room and Kathleen must have moved inside the cabinet because Bridget saw Jared's head twitch towards them and held her breath as he walked towards the cabinet, standing right in front of it. Jared lifted the gun and fired at it several times and Bridget jumped once, closing her eyes a moment in hope that Kathleen wasn't hurt. Jared pulled the door open and Bridget's eyes widened until he backed away having seen nothing inside it. She turned her head to the side with a frown and saw Kathleen, body posed to pounce, a determined look in her eye.

She ran, jumping onto his back and Bridget cursed getting up off the cabinet and kneeling at the edge of it. He knocked her off him, sending her in a daze to the floor, barely conscious, and pointed the gun at her. Bridget leaped off the top and struck him in the back. He spun around and she hit him in the face. He recovered quickly and lashed at her but she ducked it and hit him in the face again. She went to kick him but he grabbed her leg and used her momentum to swing her into the wall. She slid down and reached into her boot, pulling out her knife. She stood up just as he charged her and held the knife out, he ran right into her impaling himself on the metal as he pinned her to the wall. He made a grunting noise and she pulled it out, shoving him away from her and letting him fall to the floor. She stepped over to Kathleen, wiping the blade on Jared's shirt before tucking it back in her boot and helping her stand up.

"Come on," she said, pulling her up by her arm.

Sam came hurrying over to them and gestured at Jared. "Is he dead?"

"I don't think so," Bridget shook her head.

"What happened?"

She shrugged. "He ran into my knife."

He didn't question her any further on it, just nodded. "Let's get him in a cage."

Bridget and Kathleen helped maneuver him into the cage next to Lee and Pa lie on the floor still bleeding from where Sam had shot him. Kathleen had found her gun amongst the piles of boxes in the barn. She gestured at Pa. "I'll watch this one. You guys go ahead."

Bridget watched her, saw that look in her eyes, and understood it. "You sure?"

"Yeah…"

"Okay," she patted Sam's back and motioned for them to go find Dean.

Once outside the door Sam looked at her, "Are you sure we should leave her with him?"

"Very much so…she needs to understand and finish some things," Bridget said and they walked towards the house to find Dean.

Sam ran his hand through his hair, "Some night…this is a new one though. Kidnapped by humans."

"Who'd have thought they were crazier than demons?"

"I'm beginning to like them better. They don't kidnap me and lock me in a cage outside a bar."

"Which reminds me," Bridget grabbed Sam's hand suddenly and planted her lips on his, arms going around his neck and after the initial shock wore off his hands went to her hips. She pulled away but kept her body close. "You still owe me a good hour and after tonight my body could use a good hour…and a really good bath."

She let him go and gestured to the house, "Let's go rescue your brother."

"Don't we usually."

"Well so far only from Wendigo's and shape shifters."

"And Scarecrows and faith killers."

"Are you guys talkin' 'bout me?" Dean asked as he came down the steps of the porch the door shutting behind him.

"Usually the topic of our conversation," nodded Bridget, she noticed the bruise on his face beginning to take color and the cut that had scabbed over on his head. "You okay?"

"I've had worse. This is nothin'," he slung his arm over her shoulder. "But you can kiss it and make it all better."

"I'll pass…honey," she added as they approached the barn and Kathleen was standing outside.

"Where's the little girl?" Kathleen asked.

"Locked her in the closet. What about the dad?"

Kathleen paused a moment. "Shot. Trying to escape."

They all exchanged a look and Bridget wasn't sure if the others saw how much lighter she looked, less burdened with the truth and justice. She hoped to someday feel that way though her killers were a little more difficult to find, much less kill than hers. And she still had no idea where to look for the blonde dark eyed demon that haunted the corners of her mind, but she'd find her. When she did, the bitch would have hell to pay.

Dean swore under his breath next to her. "I think the car's at the police station."

Kathleen had retrieved her walkie talkie and listened to the back up call on the way. "So, state police and FBI are gonna be here within the hour. They're gonna wanna talk to you. I suggest you three are long gone by then."

"Thanks," Dean said. "Hey, listen, I don't mean to press our luck, but we're kinda in the middle of nowhere. Think we could catch a ride?"

"Start walking," she said and pointed down the road. "And duck if you see a squad car."

"Sounds great to me. Thanks," Sam said.

"Listen," Dean paused a moment. "I'm…sorry about your brother."

"Thank you," her eyes began to get teary. "It was really hard not knowing what happened to him. I thought it would be easier once I knew the truth – bit it isn't really."

"It never gets easy…even when you know…but it does eventually fade away, and maybe now," she gestured towards the barn, "it will…this coming from someone who's been there…and still trying to get to justice part of it."

She nodded her head, "You guys should go."

They turned and started walking down the highway. Dean nudged Sam's arm. "Never do that again," he nudged Bridget after a minute. "You either."

"Do what?" they both charmed at the same time.

"Go missin' like that."

"You were worried about us?" Sam chuckled.

"All I'm sayin' is, you vanish like that again, either of you, I'm not lookin' for ya."

"Sure, you won't," Bridget smiled and elbowed him lightly.

"I'm not," he shook his head.

Sam laughed. "So, you got sidelined by a thirteen year old girl, huh?"

"Shut up," he shook his head.

"Looks like you're getting rusty there, Deano," Bridget teased.

Dean chuckled, "Will you both shut up?"

"You're losing your touch? We're gonna have to start fighting younger kids," Sam added.

Dean sighed, running a hand down his face. He was used to long drives, but long walks were worse, they led to long car rides and the way they were going, it was going to be a very long night.


	11. Shadows

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing**

**S1 EP16 SHADOWS**

She hated costumes, it was official now. No one ever told her that this job came with a dress code, much less weekly outfits just to get to the scene of the crime. She pulled on the sleeve of her brown shirt. Now they were alarm company employees. She got out of the car, arms folded over her chest. Dean retrieved the toolbox from the trunk.

"All right, this is the place," Sam said. She was mad at him for the outfits, they were his idea. He'd owe her later for this. Even the sex they had the week before after having fun with the hillbilly rednecks didn't make up for this.

"You know," Dean said, slamming the trunk. "I've gotta say me, Dad, and Bridget did just fine without these stupid costumes. I feel like a high school drama dork," he smiled at his brother. "What was that play you did? What was it – Our Town. Yeah, you were good, so cute."

"Hey, I did plays in high school," Bridget argued.

"I bet you were cute too," Dean chimed.

"You guys wanna pull this off or not?" Sam asked.

"I'm just sayin', these outfits cost hard earned money."

"Whose?" Sam asked

"Ours," Dean said as they walked into the apartment building. "You think credit card fraud is easy?"

"Should you not being saying that out loud in the building?" Bridget asked him.

"Yea, good point," he said with a nod as they met with the land lady who was waiting outside the apartment for them.

"Thanks for letting us look around," Sam said to her.

"Well, the police said they were done with the place, so," she shrugged and moved further into the room. Dean shut the door behind them and noticed the chain lock on the door was broken. Bridget and him exchanged a glance and followed Sam and the landlady, dried blood spotted the carpet.

"You guys said you were with the alarm company?" the landlady asked, arms folded over her chest.

"That's right," Dean said.

"Well, no offense, but your alarm's about as useful as boobs on a man," she said.

"Well," Dean cleared his throat. "That's why we're here. To see what went wrong and stop it from happening again."

"No, ma'am, you found the body?" Bridget asked.

"Yeah."

"Right after it happened?"

"No," she shook her head. "A few days later. Meredith's work called – she hadn't shown up. I knocked on the door. That's when I noticed the smell."

"Any open windows?" asked Dean. "Any sign of a break in?"

"No, windows were locked, front door was bolted. Chain was on the door, we had to cut it to get in."

"And the alarm was still on?"

"Like I said," she huffed, rolling her eyes. "Bang up job your company's doing."

"Mmhmm," Dean nodded, ignoring her comments. He didn't work there anyway but he had to agree with her on that. "You see any overturned furniture, broken glass, signs of a struggle."

She shook her head. "Everything was in perfect condition – except Meredith."

"And what condition was Meredith in?" Bridget asked knowing she might regret it later when it was dinner time.

The lady paled at the memory, looking a little green. "Meredith was all over the place. In pieces. The guy who killed her must have been some kind of whackjob. But I tell you, if I didn't know better, I'd have said a wild animal did it."

The three exchanged a quick look and Sam spoke. "Ma'am, do you mind if we take some time? Give this place a once over?"

"Oh well, go right ahead. Knock yourself out," she said and left the room. Once she was gone Dean opened the toolbox and removed the EMF meter.

"So, a killer walks in and out of the apartment – no weapons, no prints, nothin'," he said.

"I'm tellin' you, the minute I found that article, I knew it was our kind of gig," Sam said.

"Can't say I had any pictures of this place but…," she shook her head. "It just feels wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"Hard to explain, but I just get this feeling that…I don't know, it's just a feeling and I can't explain it," she said and that was the truth. Ever since she heard the article and they walked in to this place she had this feeling that something was near, her necklace stayed warm around her neck, even the ring was warm.

The EMF meter started beeping frantically. "Well something was here," Dean nodded.

"So, you talked to the cops?" Sam asked.

"Uh, yeah," Dean smirked. "I talked to Amy a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law."

"Yeah?" Bridget rolled her eyes. "What did you find out?"

Dean got that far away dreamy look in his eyes, "Well, she's a Sagittarius. She loves tequila, I mean – wow. Oh, and she's got this little tattoo –."

Bridget smacked him upside the head, "Dean!" At least she knew where he was the other night when she and Sam took full benefit of having the room to themselves.

"What?" he blinked a few times and then seemed to remember the conversation they were on. "Yeah. Uh, nothin' we don't already know. Except for one thing they're keepin' out of the papers."

"That would be?" Sam asked.

"Meredith's heart was missing."

Sam blinked a few times, stunned. "Her heart?"

"Yeah, her heart," he repeated.

"So, what do you think did it to her?" Bridget questioned, itching at her arm. She wanted out of this damn suit.

"Well, the landlady said it looked like an animal attack. Maybe it was – werewolf?"

"No, no werewolf," Sam shook his head. "The lunar cycle's not right. Plus, if it was a creature, it would've left some kind of trace. It's probably a spirit."

Bridget was frowning at the drops of blood of the carpet, her eyes following from of drop to another. "See if you guys can find some masking tape?"

"Why?"

"I think I found something," she said. Dean tossed her a roll from the toolbox and she pulled a strip off, connecting the dots so to speak until she finished the symbol.

Sam looked at it, "Ever see that symbol before?"

"No," Dean shook his head.

"Me neither," Sam shook his head and looked at Bridget.

Her face was drawn tight in a frown, deep in thought and her hand was touching the chain and ring along her neck. "Bridget?" she didn't seem to hear him. "Bridget," he said louder and she blinked looking up at him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said quietly.

"Have you seen this before?" Sam asked pointing at the symbol.

She stared back at it, deep in thought again, trying to remember. It looked familiar…but she couldn't pull from where. "No…no I haven't," she said. "I think we're done here though."

* * *

Bridget sat on the bed bent over her sketchbook hair falling her face in a dark waterfall, deeply in concentration on drawing. Dean had left half an hour before to do "research" at the bar Meredith worked at. In other words he was drinking and flirting with any pretty girl near him. She hadn't paid much attention but knew Sam was more than likely printing up research and digging through the books they "borrowed" from the library at the table across from her.

She was working the details out of the symbol. It was familiar, she'd seen it before. She'd _drawn _it before, months ago, around the same time she had the picture dream of the blonde dark eyed demon. They had to be connected and if they were…if they were it meant she was near the demon that killed Will. She'd been standing in the same room it had been. Her hand shook slightly as she finished the sketch of the symbol. She turned the pages in her book to the blonde dark eyed demon and gritted her teeth together. She would find her and she would kill her. Someway, somehow she'd kill her.

"Bridget," Sam said her name from right next to her. She hadn't even felt the bed move or heard him get up. He moved the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "Are you okay?"

She nodded, "I'm just trying to figure this out…I've seen it before…I've _drawn_ it before and I know it's connected to _her_."

Sam looked at the drawing and saw the sketch of the shadowy demon. "The dark eyed demon? The one that…" he paused, "killed Will?"

She nodded her head and closed the book and ran her fingers through her hair. "It's her, Sam, I know it is."

"We'll find her then and we'll get rid of her."

"No, we'll find her and I'll get to kill her," she corrected him looking him in the eye. "I get to do it this time. It's personal, Sam…you guys can kill the yellow eyed demon…it hurt you long before it hurt me."

"It killed your brother and his family," he told her.

"I know, but you two deserve to kill it more than me which is why I want to get rid of her…she hurt me and I want to return the favor."

He nodded his head running his hand through her hair and letting it settle on her shoulder. "Okay, she's yours," he pulled her into a hug and she took comfort in his warmth, wondering how it was possible to love him yet still love Will…maybe because one was a memory and the other was flesh and blood, sitting right next to her and she'd do everything in her power to make sure that bitch never took anyone else from her.

"Come on," he said, shaking her shoulder a little. "Let's go find Dean before he gets too in depth with his interviews."

She snorted and stood up, watching Sam gather the papers from the table. "He likes in depth interviews."

"Yeah, I know, but if this is what you think it is then I want to find it so you can finish this," he said and locked the door as they left, slipping the key into his pocket.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"Least we can do, Bridge," he grabbed her hand in his. "Come on, let's go."

She savored every minute of the walk to the bar with her hand in Sam's. She hated that she was doing this behind Dean's back without letting anyone know they were indeed together. But it wasn't the right time for any of it. Once they approached the bar, Sam let go of her hand and she felt colder in a way, touching her ring for comfort. Upon entering, sure enough Dean was at the bar talking to a hot bartender. He spotted them and parted ways, coming to sit at the empty table they found.

"Did you get anything?" Bridget asked. "Besides her number?"

"Bridge, I'm a professional. I'm offended that you would think that."

Bridget folded her arms and cocked her eyebrow at him.

"Al right," he pulled out the napkin with her number on it.

"You mind doin' a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?" Sam asked.

"Huh? Look, there's nothing to find out. I mean, Meredith worked here, she waited tables, everyone here was her friend. Everybody said she was normal. She didn't do or say anything weird before she died, so – what about the symbol, you find anything?"

"Not entirely," Sam said. "It wasn't in Dad's journal or in any of the usual books. I just have to dig deeper I guess, but we did get a hint."

"Which is?"

Sam looked at Bridget giving her the floor to talk, "I've drawn that symbol before, from a picture dream…the same night I had a picture dream of the blonde dark eyed demon."

Dean's eyebrows rose, "You mean…the one that…"

"Yeah, that one."

"So you think she's connected to it?" Dean asked.

"Why else would I have the two pictures two together if they weren't?"

"Good point, now we just need to figure out what kind of demon she is and what that symbol is," Dean said. "There was another victim before Meredith right?"

"Right. Yeah," Sam pulled out a newspaper clipping. "His name was, uh – his name was Billy Swardstrom. Last month he was found mutilated in his town house. Same deal – the door was locked, the alarm was on."

"Is there any connection between the two of them?"

"Not that I can tell – I mean, not yet, at least. Ben was a banker, Meredith was a waitress. They never met, never knew anyone in common – they were practically from different worlds."

Bridget nodded and stopped mid motion as a surge of heat scorched through her body and a pain shot through her skull. She blinked a few times, not wanting to alert the guys. Her necklace was burning as well as her skin and her head hurt.

"Bridge? You okay?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," she said for fear of nodding her head. "I'm just – I'm just gonna step out back for a moment. I'll be right back, okay."

She stood up using the table for leverage and took a few steps. Dean touched her arm, "You sure you're – dude, you feel kinda warm."

"I'm fine, Dean," she smiled at him. "I'm just going outside for some air."

"Okay, but I'm comin' to find you in five minutes if you're not back."

She smiled and headed out back, glad there was no one out there. She grabbed onto the railing at the far end and leaned over, heaving whatever she had in her stomach. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand and gripped at her hurting head. Where the hell did this come from? It came on so suddenly and it hurt. She touched her necklace and felt it thrumming under her fingers, actually vibrating and as she looked at it she could swear the ring was glowing and then she knew it was as the white light got brighter, the stone nearly glowing with it. The brighter it got, the dimmer her headache became and the cooler her skin felt. It felt as if it were chasing the heat and pain away, stopping it. It grew brighter and lit the back area to the point Bridget had to close her eyes. Then it stopped…everything stopped, the pain, the heat, the nausea, even the necklaces warmth and vibration. She touched it just to be sure, but it was over.

The back door opened and Dean came out looking one way then the other until he spotted her sitting with her back to the railing. He was quick to kneel by her side, hand going over face. "Bridge? You okay?"

She nodded, "Yeah…I am now."

"You're not warm anymore, you felt like you were burning up in there," he said concerned. "What happened?"

She shook her head, letting him grab her elbows to help her stand, "I'm not sure. I was fine one minute and the next my head felt like it was splitting open and I felt sick…then…"

"What?" he asked when she trailed off.

"This sounds crazy but…my necklace," she touched it. "Dean, the ring started glowing and the brighter it got the more the pain went away…it…it chased it away. Whatever was hurting me, it stopped it."

Dean looked at the necklace. "Your brother gave that to you?"

"Yeah, but the ring…that was from Will."

Dean pursued his lips, "So your deceased fiancé stopped whatever was making you sick…by playing through your ring."

"Yes and you have to admit this isn't the first time my necklace went freaky on us," she said and watched Dean ponder it.

"Okay, so even if you're right, what hurt you?"

"I have no idea," she shook her head and paused, touching her necklace. "But what if it has to do with dark eyes?"

"You mean like she knows you're in town?"

"Yeah, it makes sense, Dean. I didn't forget about her what if she never forgot about me?"

"Then I say we're on the right trail if she's tryin' to take you out," he said and put an arm around her shoulders. "Come on, let's get back to the hotel and grab the lovesick puppy."

"Lovesick puppy?" she repeated as they went back inside.

"Yeah, Sam was chattin' up this blonde chick. Mean little bitch too. Names Meg, but hey, least he'll be gettin' out and gettin' some right?"

Bridget felt jealousy rear its ugly head in her but nodded, "Yeah."

They found Sam at the table and Dean clapped him on the back, still keeping his arm around her and, for once, she was thankful for it. She still felt shaken up. "Come on, man, let's go."

"You want to leave a bar early and your hot bartender?" Sam asked in surprise.

"Yeah, well, I think we're on the right track and we got other matters to take care of," he nodded at Bridget and Sam finally seemed to notice her. She wondered how bad she looked when she saw the concern on his face.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"Later," she said. "Let's just go back to the hotel. I want a bath."

They were outside and Dean couldn't hold it any longer. "So who the hell was she?"

"I don't really know," Sam said. "I only met her once. Meeting up with her again? I don't know, man, it's weird."

"And what was she saying? I treat you like luggage? What, were you bitchin' about me to some chick?"

Bridget groaned inwardly, already they were fighting about something from over a month ago.

"Look, I'm sorry, Dean," Sam apologized. "It was when we had that huge fight when I was in that bus stop in Indiana. But that's not important, just listen -."

"Well, is there any truth to what she was saying? I mean, am I keeping you against your will, Sam?"

"No, of course not. Now, would you listen?"

"I'll listen if you two stop fighting," Bridget said and put a hand on her head. She was getting a headache for a whole different reason.

"First off, what happened to you?" he asked her.

She took a deep breath and told him the story of how the sickness came from nowhere and her necklace started glowing stopping whatever it was. Sam nodded his head, believing it more than Dean had. "And you think it has to do with the symbol and dark eyes?"

"Yeah, I do."

"There's something strange going on here…"

"Yeah, tell me about it," Dean said. "She wasn't even into me."

"No, man, I mean like our kind of strange. Like, maybe even a lead."

"Why do you say that besides from what Bridget has?"

"I met Meg a month ago, literally, on the side of the road. And now I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? And then Bridget gets sick out of nowhere and her necklace stops whatever it was that had to be supernatural to cause that? You don't think that's a little weird?"

"I don't know, random coincidence. It happens," Dean shrugged and Bridget moved out from under his arm to lean against the car.

"Yeah, it happens, but not to us. Look, I could be wrong. I'm just sayin' that there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on."

"Well, I bet you'd like to," Dean smirked. "I mean, maybe she's not a suspect, maybe you've got a thing for her, huh?" Bridget gritted her teeth and Sam rolled his eyes. "Maybe you're thinkin' a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?"

"Do me a favor," Sam said. "Check and see if there's really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol."

"You know I will," Bridget nodded.

"What are you gonna do?" Dean asked.

"I'm gonna watch, Meg," he said.

Dean chuckled, "Yeah, you are."

"I just wanna see what's what. Better safe than sorry."

"All right, you little pervert."

"Dude," he glared. "And keep an eye on Bridge, make sure whatever got her doesn't get her again."

"I can handle myself," she said.

"I know…I just don't want it to happen again…whatever it was."

Dean grabbed Bridget's elbow with a nod, more serious than before. "Nothing will happen to her, I'll watch her."

"Not while I'm in the bathtub you won't," she shook her head as they crossed the street leaving Sam with the car.

"Gotta make sure nothing gets you. Bathrooms are great places for that sorta thing."

"It's also the sorta place to make it easier for me to drown you."

"Didn't that almost happen to you once?"

"Yeah, due to a freaky poltergeist but I broke the tub, I can handle myself."

"Looks like your necklace handled it for you."

She gritted her teeth, "I can take care of myself."

"Whatever you say," he patted her shoulder and took out the key Sam had given him to open the door.

Bridget switched the light on and went through her duffel bag for new clothes. She wanted to put on her gym shorts and a top and call it a night but that was never the case here. She grabbed a denim skirt and a new top along with undergarments and headed into the bathroom while Dean pulled out Sam's laptop.

"Leave the door unlocked, just in case," Dean called out.

She rolled her eyes but did so anyway, drawing her bath and adding her bubble mix in. She combed her hair up and piled it on her head with a clip, brushing the bangs from her face. Once the bubbles were high enough she stepped in, sighing in pleasure as the heat relaxed her muscles.

She closed her eyes, relaxing in the moment. She had left her necklace on just in case whatever sent the attack on her tried it again. But a hot bubble bath was exactly what had had needed. She felt back to normal already.

The door opened and she peaked her eyes open seeing Dean stick his head in. She glared in his direction, moving the bubbles to cover herself. "Can I help you with something?"

"Just making sure you're okay," he said with a shrug.

She rolled her eyes, he really did care though. She rarely saw this side of him and it only seemed to show when he was genuinely worried. "You can come in, Dean."

"You sure? You're not gonna knock my head in or anything?"

"Not as long as you behave."

He came in and sat on the closed toilet which was on the other side of the sink giving some distance to the tub. "Just got off the phone with Sammy."

"Yeah, he playing Peeping Tom?" she asked though she didn't really want to know.

"Oh yeah, he's tailing her, but I don't see any reason he should."

"So, she checks out the?"

"Yup," Dean nodded. "Meg Master's is a real person."

"Hmm," Bridget said. "I had the same feeling Sam did."

"What? You think there's more to her?"

"The way Sam says it, Dean, how can there not be. I mean, he meets her at a bus stop in Indiana and then a month later she just happens to be in the same bar as he is in the heart of Chicago when there are hundreds of bars in this city? It's more than coincidence. Something isn't right."

"I'll keep diggin'. I'm working on that symbol right now, see what I can pull on it."

"Okay," she nodded and he stood up to leave.

"Holler if you need me, Bridge," he said and shut the door.

With a sigh she got out of the tub and dried off, putting her clothes on and brushing her hair out. It was nice while it lasted but she had work to do.

Dean was sitting at the table and glanced up at her as she exited the bathroom, tossing her dirty clothes in her bag. "Anything new?" she asked.

"Still searching on the symbol, but I found photos of Meg, pretty girl even in high school."

"Really?" Bridget said raising an eyebrow in interest. So there were pictures of this girl who liked Sam. She told herself it wasn't jealousy but curiosity that peeked her interest. "I wanna see her?"

She went to Dean's side and looked at the screen and in that moment she felt the weight of the last four years crash on her and turn her blood cold. Her jaw fell slightly and her eyes widened as her mind spun with images. The dark shadow just under the street light while she held Will in her arms. The blonde hair and those eyes, those dark eyes. She couldn't remember the face but knew she recognize her again. She put a hand to her mouth as she gasped trying not to scream.

"Bridget? What is it?"

She pointed at the screen, arm shaking. "It's her. Dean, it's _her!_"

Dean looked at the screen and picture with a shocked look and stood up to face Bridget. He didn't need to ask who 'her' was. "Meg?"

She nodded, tears of anger in her eyes. "That's the bitch that killed Will. I told you I'd know who she was when I saw her and that's her!"

"Okay, okay, okay," he said and grabbed her upper arms. "Calm down, Bridge. Deep breath." She did what he said and he kept his hands on her arms. "Will let Sam know as soon as he gets back and we'll fry this bitch, okay? Right now we need to figure out what she's up to and what that symbol is."

Bridget nodded and fifteen minutes later they had their answer. Shadow dogs. And not long after that Sam walked through the door. The three looked at each other and at the same time said the same thing. "We gotta talk."

* * *

Sam sat next to Bridget, "So she's the dark eyed demon that killed Will?"

She nodded, having finished telling him what they found out and hearing Sam talk about following Meg into an old warehouse where she had talked to a bowl of blood at an altar.

He put an arm around her shoulders, "I'm sorry, Bridge…"

"It's okay…I've been waiting for this for a long time. Now we know where she is and what she's doing to some degree."

"So hot little Meg is summoning Daeva then," Dean said.

"Looks like she's been using that black altar I saw to control the thing," Sam said.

"What the deal with the bowl?" Dean asked.

"She was talking to it. The way witches used to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone."

"With who? With the Daeva?" Dean asked.

"No," he shook his head. "You said those things were savages. No, this was someone different. Someone who was giving her orders. Someone who is coming to that warehouse."

Dean thought about thought about it for a moment and stood up moving to the table to scramble through the papers. He pulled up a few papers and sat down, eyes widening. "Holy crap."

"What?" Sam asked.

"What I was gonna tell you earlier – I pulled a favor with my," he cleared his throat, "_friend _Amy, over at the police station. The complete records of the two victims – we missed something the first time."

"What?" Sam asked again and he and Bridget moved over to the table.

Dean put the papers in front of them, tapping at it. "The first victim, the old man – he spent his whole life in Chicago, but he wasn't born here. Look where he was born."

"Lawrence, Kansas," Bridget read.

"Mmhmm," he put out the second file. "Meredith, the second victim, turns out was adopted. And guess where she's from."

Sam read it over, Bridget following. It read Lawrence, Kansas. "Holy crap," Sam said and sunk into a chair.

"Yeah."

"I mean, it _is_ where the demon killed Mom. That's where everything started. So, you think Meg's tied up with the demon?"

"I think it's a definite possibility," Dean said. "I mean, Meg was there when the demon killed Bridget's family, why wouldn't she be tied to it."

Bridget was looking closer at the files and felt her blood run backwards just about, "Oh my God," she whispered.

"What is it?" Sam asked. "Did we miss something?"

Bridget pointed at the first victims file. "Billy Swardstorm's first name was William."

"Yeah, and?" Dean shrugged.

She pointed at Meredith, "Meredith's last name was Roberts but her birth last name was Ledgerman...and both were born June 23rd."

"I'm still not followin'," Dean shook his head.

She took a deep breath to steady herself, "Will's name was, of course, William…his last name was Ledgerman…he died June 23rd along with my family."

Dean frowned and looked at the papers, "Whoa…"

"Still think it was all a coincidence. The bitch is mocking me," Bridget slammed her hand on the files.

Sam put his hand on her arm. "So what's the significance to all of us? And how do these Daeva things fit in?"

"Beats me," Dean said. "But I say we trash the black altar, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation."

"Friendly, my ass, I'm gonna tear her throat out," Bridget growled.

"No, we can't," Sam interrupted. "We shouldn't tip her off. We've gotta stake out that warehouse. We've gotta see who, or what, is showin' up to meet with her."

"Sam, it's probably a trap. She was the one who made me feel ill at the bar, she had to be. She knows who I am, she knows I'm with you and she's playing with us with these victims to tell us that she knows. Hell, Sam, she probably knew you were at the warehouse. She's smart, I'll give her that and we'll be walking straight into her trap."

"I don't think she does or she'd have killed me."

"She's baiting us."

"Well, I'll tell you both one thing," he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "We can't do this alone. I'm callin' Dad."

"I'll go get the weapons," Sam said and left before Bridget could argue. As much as she wanted to kill Meg she had a feeling this was a set up. That they were walking right into it and no weapon they had would stop her type of power.

Dean was leaving a message, no surprise to her that John didn't answer his phone. Sam entered with the weapons and Dean shut his phone, frowning at Sam. "Jesus, Sam, what did you bring in?"

"I ransacked the trunk. Holy water, every weapon that I could think of, exorcism rituals from about a half a dozen religions. I'm not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything."

Dean nodded and started loading his gun. Sam handed one to Bridget who took it slowly, "It won't do any good…she's strong. She's something we haven't dealt with before…"

"It'll be a big night," Dean said.

"Yeah…you nervous?" Sam asked them.

Bridget shrugged and Dean shook his head, "No. Why, are you?"

"No. No way…God, could you imagine if we actually found the damn thing? That demon?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, all right?"

"Meg is gonna be hard enough," Bridget said quietly.

"I know," Sam said. "I'm just sayin', what if we did? What is this thing was over tonight? Man, I'd sleep for a month. Go back to school – be a person again."

Bridget bit her lower lip, he thought it'd be that easy. That killing this demon would mean it was over…that there weren't more just like it? She felt an argument stirring.

"You wanna go back to school?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, once we're done hunting this thing," Sam said. "Bridget and I could both go back.

She snorted and shook her head and Dean just shrugged.

"Is there something wrong with that?" Sam asked.

"No, no. It's uh, great…good for you guys."

She took a deep breath, moving the hair from her face, "I'm not going back to school when this thing is dead."

"What?" Sam asked surprised. "Why not?"

"Because it'll never be over, Sam. There's going to be others just like it. There's always going to be something to hunt and I'll keep doing that with Dean."

Dean smiled, head still down cleaning his gun, but she saw the relief in his face.

"But you wanted to be a fashion designer and -."

"Yes, Sam, I did want that, but that was a different life before any of this. I can't just transfer back into that life like nothing ever happened. I can't live a normal life knowing things are still out there and people are still dying."

Sam looked at his brother, "You feel the same?"

Dean nodded, "I was never one for fashion, but yeah…this is what I do and there will always be things to hunt."

"There's gotta be something you want for yourself, Dean."

"Yeah, I don't want you to leave the second this thing is over, Sam," he said and walked over to the dresser, bracing his arms on it and staring at the wall in his own anger.

"Dude, what's your problem?" Sam asked.

He remained silent and Bridget stood up, moving slowly to him and putting her hands on his shoulders, trying to rub the tension away. He turned back around after a minute facing Sam and she kept her hand on his ar. "Why do you think I drag you everywhere? Huh? I mean, why do you think I came and got you from Stanford in the first place?"

"Cause Dad was in trouble. Cause you and Bridge want to find this thing that killed our families."

"Yes, that, but it's more than that, man…" he paused again and Bridget bit her lower lip, not like the arguments but knowing Dean needed to say this. "You and me and Dad…even Bridge…I want us…I want us to be together again. I want to be a family again."

"Dean, we _are_ a family. I'd do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before."

"Could be," Dean said sadly.

Sam shook his head, "I don't want them to be. I'm not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you're gonna have to let me go my own way."

Dean nodded and then turned and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. For some reason that hurt worse than him slamming it. Bridget stood there awkwardly in the silence.

"I can't believe you're not going back," Sam said.

"I can't believe you are," she countered quietly.

"I have to…I have to get back to my life and you should too. You should go back with me, finish what you started."

"This _is_ my life, Sam. It's not the one I planned, but hey, in college career majors change and mine changed big time," she said and tapped her fingers on the dresser. After a moment she sat next to him. "This is the life I have now, there's no escaping it…and I don't want to. I have nothing to go back to, Sam…here, I have a family now. I have people I care for and love and vice versa and that's more than I can ask for. I am finishing what I started."

"How can you keep doing this?" he asked. "Once you get what you were hoping to, once these things are dead, how can you keep doing it?"

"Because I don't want anyone to go through what I did. I don't want anyone to feel that pain. As long as these things are still out there, then I'll keep on fighting."

"What about a life of your own?"

"This is my life, Sam," she said with a smile.

"No, I mean, a family, marriage, kids," he said.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "Once upon a time I dreamed of that," she touched the ring around her neck. "I wanted it all…but now, even if I were to go back to a normal life, it would never be normal. I'd always be looking over my shoulder for the next bad thing, wondering about every news article I read, waiting for a demon to pop up…how could I bring a kid into that? How could I be normal after that?...but we're talking about something that won't happen tonight and won't happen tomorrow because this demon that killed your mom and my brother won't be easy to kill, it won't happen tonight…we've got time together as this family, all of us do…it'll be awhile."

Sam's hand covered hers, "Then we have time."

She smiled and touched his shoulder. "Not tonight we don't…because if it were to end tonight, you'd leave tomorrow for Stanford and leave all of us…leave me behind. I can only take a heartbreak at a time, Sam, and my quota is full for the day," she removed her hand from his quietly and left the room.

Outside she leaned against the door, closing her eyes against the tears. She let out a small cry and put a hand to her mouth. She took a deep breath to regain herself and wiped at her eyes, clearing her throat to find Dean, not wanting to be a mess in front of him. She didn't have to look far. He was sitting on the trunk of the Impala, staring out at nothing. She sat up on it next to him, scooting close and brushing the hair from her face.

"Big night…" she said.

"Yeah…"

"He's his own person, Dean…this isn't the life he wants and we can't make him want it."

"I know it's just…," he shook his head and there were tears in his eyes. "He's leaving us again. He's leavin' like I'm nothing to him. All I want is my family together and I can't even have that because everybody leaves…"

Bridget slid her hand into his for comfort, "I'm not leaving when this thing is dead."

"Why not? You got school to go back to, a career to finish."

"What's to go back to, Dean? The family I had when I wanted those things is dead and that died with it. Everything I want is here now and like I told Sam, I can't go back to that life and be normal again…if I ever was," she snorted and was glad he smiled a bit. "Not when I know what's out there hurting people, not when there's things to hunt, not when I know that John and you are out here. I'd go crazy if I didn't know either of you were okay. You guys and Sam and even Bobby are all I have now. I'm not leaving that, I'm not leaving you…"

He smiled a bit and nodded, arm going around her shoulders. "Thanks, Bridge…nice to know I still got you when it's said and done."

She patted his leg with her free hand, "You're stuck with me, Deano."

He tapped on his cheek, "Can I at least get a kiss? Make me feel better."

She sighed, "All right," she leaned in to kiss his cheek, but last minute he turned his head and his free hand that had been around her shoulders now pulled her to him, locking his lips on hers, kissing her deeper. He pulled away with that cat like grin and she frowned at him.

"It was worth the hit."

She pursued her lips, "We both had an emotional night, you more so, and it's probably going to get worse, so I won't hit you for that, this time."

"Good, so in case I die I at least got to kiss you," he smiled.

"You're not dying tonight. I'm not letting Meg kill anyone I care for. That includes you."

He faked sincerity, "You care for me?"

"Keep it up and I'll hit you for it after all," she reminded him and hopped off the trunk. "Come on, we got work to do before the night is over…I'm so glad I restocked the med kit. I have a feeling we're gonna need it."

* * *

Bridget climbed the elevator gate with Sam and Dean, glad she had brought two of her knives tucked into her boot and a vial of Holy water in her other boot. She doubted the gun in the back of her skirt would do much good but better to be safe than sorry. Especially when you were walking into a trap like they were. She had tried to convince Sam once more but he wasn't hearing it. They reached the top of the elevator and Bridget slid out between the gate and the wall, followed by Dean and Sam. The two boys were quick to draw their guns and move to hide behind some crates. Bridget rolled her eyes and walked straight out.

"I'm surprised," Meg said still praying at her black altar. "You just come right out, Bridget, no sense in trying to hide like the other guys behind the crates. It's a little childish I always thought. Least your tough enough to walk out…not like I didn't know you three were here."

"Well," Dean said still behind the crates. "That didn't work out like I planned."

"I told you it wouldn't," Bridget said, her eyes never leaving Meg, never wavering. Not even when the blonde stood up and turned around and she was faced with the face that haunted her for so many years.

"Bridget, long time no see, love your hair, really. And you still look so much the same from that night," she pointed at Bridget. "You should listen to her, she's the smart one. She just knew…and you guys still hide letting her face me alone…why don't you come out?"

"Where's your little Daeva friend?" Dean asked.

"Around," Meg shrugged, taking a step closer to Bridget who never moved. "You know, Dean, that shotgun's not gonna do much good. I'm sure Bridget told you that too."

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. The shotgun's not for the demon."

"So, who is it, Meg?" Sam called out. "Who's coming? Who are you waiting for?"

Meg smiled and Bridget felt the cold before she saw it. She spun her head towards Sam just as her necklace warmed, warning her that they were about to be harmed.

She heard Meg's voice speak the answer she already knew, "You."

"Sam! Dean!" Bridget called out and ran towards them just as the shadows sprang from the ground with a growl. She saw Sam knocked to the ground, a slash mark appearing across his face and Dean was thrown into the crates. She was stopped by a force and Meg was grabbing her. "I've been waiting for you, too." Bridget was slammed into a pillar by a shadowy demon and her vision went black as she sunk into darkness hearing Meg's laughter.

When she came to she was tied to a pillar next to Dean but able to see Sam still unconscious, his cheek bleeding from the scratch marks. With a slight wince she twisted her head to look at Dean who was awake. "Dean? You okay?"

"Never better," he grunted. "You?"

"I've felt worse."

"That you have," Meg chimed, sitting in front of Sam.

"Not as bad as I'll make you feel," Bridget promised her just as Sam came too.

He blinked a few times and looked over at them.

"Hey Sam," Dean said. "Don't take this wrong, but that girl is one helluva bitch."

"This, the whole thing," he said to Meg. "It was a trap."

"Duh," she gestured at Bridget. "How many times do I have to repeat that Bridget was right?"

"Running into you at the bar," he said."You made her sick."

"Well I didn't want to ruin our moment and I knew she'd recognize me. I still don't know how she recovered so quickly but that doesn't matter now."

"Me following you here, hearin' what you had to say. It was all a set up…and that the victims were from Lawrence and matched Will?"

"It doesn't mean anything," she laughed. "It was to draw you all in, that's all."

"You killed those people for nothing," he seethed.

"Baby, I've killed a lot more for a lot less."

"You trapped us. Good for you. It's Miller time," Dean smiled. "But why don't you kill us already?"

"Not very quick on the uptake, are we?" she leaned in closer to Sam. "This trap wasn't for you."

Dean was puzzled and even Bridget frowned. If not them then who?

"Dad," Sam said suddenly. "It's a trap for Dad."

Meg grinned and Dean chuckled. "Oh, sweetheart – you're dumber than you look. Cause even if Dad was in town, which he's not, he wouldn't walk into something like this. He's too good."

"Better than we are. He'd have listened to me," Bridget snorted.

"He is pretty good. I'll give you that," Meg walked over and straddled Dean's legs. Bridget turned her head in disgust to even look at the bitch. "But you see, he has one weakness."

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"You," Meg said and touched Dean's cheek. "He lets his guard down around his boys, lets his emotions cloud his judgment. I happen to know he _is_ in town. And he'll come and try to save you. And then the Daevas will kill everybody – nice and slow and messy."

"Well, I've got news for ya. It's gonna take a lot more than some…_shadow_ to kill him," Dean said.

"Oh, the Daevas are in the room here. They're invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see."

"Why me, then? Huh?" Bridget said, twisting her head. "Why kill my family?"

Meg slid over to her, crouching near her. "Well, your brother and his family were part of the plan…sort of. It didn't work out real well. Your nephew wasn't supposed to die, but it happens. And Will…let's just say he got in the way."

Bridget frowned for a moment and it dawned on her as the memory flashed back. Will had shoved her out of the way…Meg wasn't aiming for him. She was aiming for _her_. "Me…you wanted me."

"Bingo," she said. "You and your little gift or whatever the hell it is gets in the way just like your brother's did…but I'll admit, I could have easily shot you and not him even if he moved you out of the way…but my plan changed just last second and I felt him dying would be more fun, your misery entertains me."

Bridget looked as if she'd been slapped, stunned into silence. She hung her head down, her hair shielding her face.

"Awwee…I struck a nerve. No snappy comeback, no anger, I'm disappointed."

"Leave her alone," Sam said and she turned her attention to him. "Why you doin' this Meg? What kind of deal you got worked out here, huh? And with who?"

Bridget removed the pocket knife from her back pocket and was quietly working at the rope, head still draped down but her eyes were full of pure rage, containing herself into looking solemn.

"I'm doing this for the same reasons you do what you do – loyalty. Love. Like the love you had for Mommy – and Jess."

"Go to hell," he seethed.

"Baby, I'm already there," she purred and slid over to Sam, straddling his legs. "Come on, Sam. There's no need to be nasty. I think we both know how you really feel about me. You know…I saw you watching me, changing in my apartment. Turned you on, didn't it."

"Get a room, you two," Dean groaned.

"I didn't mind. I liked that you were watching me. Come on, Sammy. You and I can still have a little dirty fun," she started kissing Sam's neck and Bridget undid her ropes. She nodded faintly at Dean and Sam who gave her a knowing look and moved his hand barely to show he broke through his ropes.

He looked at Meg. "You wanna have fun? Go ahead then. I'm a little tied up right now."

Meg smiled and continued kissing him. Dean knocked his knife against the post and it caught Meg's attention. Bridget kept her head down as she crossed over to them. She looked over t Dean and spotted the knife. She removed it with a smile and tossed it into a corner before moving back to Sam. "Now, were you just trying to distract me while your brother cuts free."

Bridget moved her arms behind her back and drew her leg up, ready to pounce.

"No, no," Sam said with a smile. "That's because I have my own knife." Meg looked confused until Sam head butted her. She fell back from him and Bridget lunged at her the moment Sam moved. She hit her once in the face, knocking her to the floor with a groan of pain.

She looked up at Sam and pointed, "Sam! Get the altar!"

Sam walked to the altar and overturned it. The shadow demons appeared and Bridget backed away from Meg over to Dean, watching as the shadows grabbed her and dragged her out the window sending her screaming into the night. Bridget bent low and cut Dean's ropes and the three moved to the window. Meg was sprawled on the sidewalk below, eyes staring into nothing.

"So, I guess the Daevas didn't like being bossed around," Dean said.

"Yeah, I guess not."

"Hey, Sam…next time you wanna get laid find a girl who isn't buckets-o'-crazy," Dean suggested and walked away. Bridget and Sam exchanged a look and followed him, Bridget lingering a second longer to look at Meg…it didn't feel right. It should have felt over, but it didn't. It was too easy for her to believe.

* * *

They were walking back to the hotel room now to get their stuff and get out of here. Bridget still had the uncomfortable feeling in her gut. She touched her necklace slightly.

"Why didn't you just leave that stuff in the car?" Dean asked.

"I said it before, and I'll say it again – better safe than sorry."

Dean shrugged and unlocked the door so they could enter the room. They paused when they saw the outline of someone standing in the room. Bridget was quick to switch on the light and the man turned around causing the three to stand in shock.

Dean managed to speak first, "Dad?"

"Hey boys…and Bridget," he said and Dean was first to share a long hug with him before Bridget scooted forward.

"Don't suppose I get a hug?" she asked sheepishly with her sweet girl voice, batting her eyes.

It caused him to chuckle, "Pretty girl like you, come here," he pulled her into a hug and she had to admit she missed him almost as much as Dean had. She felt more complete now.

She pulled away and glanced at Sam, feeling the tension. She inched back to Dean who put his hand on her arm, both waiting to see what happened.

"Hi Sam," John said.

"Hey Dad," Sam said softly and placed the bag of weapons on the floor.

Dean broke the awkwardness. "Dad, it was a trap. I didn't know. Bridget did, but I didn't listen to her. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I thought it might've been. Good intuition, Bridge."

"Thank you, sir," she nodded her thanks.

"Were you there?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive…she _was_ the bad guy, right?" John asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, sir," Sam and Dean said together.

Dean took over the rest, "She was, uh…she was the dark eyed demon that, uh…"

"She was the one that killed Will," Bridget filled in, wincing slightly as she said it out loud.

John looked at her in the same shock his sons had been in, the expression so identical it'd have been comical to her if it wasn't such a touchy subject for her. "You're sure."

"Very…she even admitted to it…" Bridget said softly.

John stunned her now as he hugged her again, wrapping both arms around her now so her face was buried in his jacket. She closed her eyes, sinking into the emotion and warmth she felt from it, something she hadn't felt in so long because the feeling only came from family. He pulled her away and patted her shoulder once before dropping his hand and addressing all of them. "It doesn't surprise me, either. It's tried to stop me before.

"The demon has?" Sam asked.

"It knows I'm close. It knows I'm gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell – actually kill it?"

"How?" Dean asked.

"I'm workin' on that," he smiled, same smirky grin as Dean, she noted.

"Let us come with you, we'll help," Sam said and Bridget and Dean shot him a warning look.

"No, Sam. Not yet. Just try to understand. This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don't want you caught in the crossfire. I don't want you hurt."

"Dad, you don't have to worry about us."

"Of course I do. I'm your father," he paused a moment. "Listen, Sammy, last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight."

"Yes, sir."

"It's good to see again. It's been a long time."

"Too long," Sam agreed and he and John embraced. Bridget had tears in her eyes and Dean slid his arm around her shoulders, just as tearful with a smile on his face. He was happy. It was everything she wanted and it was what she wanted too. A long last a happy reunion and they were all together – a family. Bridget gasped and grabbed her necklace. It was getting hot and vibrating. "No," she whispered. "LOOK OUT!"

Her shout came too late as the shadows attacked John, throwing him into the cabinets and sending him to the ground. Sam was next to be thrown.

"No!" Dean shouted moving away from her and before she could grab him he was thrown to the floor.

Bridget turned to look out the window and saw the shadowy figure with dark eyes and blonde hair standing across the street. Her eyes narrowed and she gritted her teeth. She _knew_ she wasn't dead. She was thrown into the wall, losing sight of Meg outside and hit it with an "oomph" sliding to the floor. It tossed her again near Sam and she let out a cry of pain as it raked her leg, but what hurt her more was hearing her family's cries of pain. Memories flashed through her mind, Lydia screaming upstairs, her brother's cries as the ceiling fell down, Will's shocked cry as the bullet hit him. And she was hearing those same haunting sounds now. Her necklace became warm around her neck as she pushed herself onto her hands and knees, sitting up slightly as the ring began to glow against her shirt.

Sam was reaching into the weapon bag and pulled out a flare. Bridget grabbed his wrist, "No, I got this one handled.

"Bridge, I need to-." He stopped mid sentence as he saw the ring on her necklace glowing brighter by the second.

"Close your eyes, this will be bright," she warned everyone. A tear fell down Bridget's face as she looked at the shadows moving around the room. It mixed with the blood on her cheek and she gritted her teeth, letting her emotions do the work. "No one. Hurts. My. FAMILY!" On her last word the ring let out a brilliant light and pulse that sent the windows blowing out. The shadow demons shrieked and went out with the window just as Sam lit the flare to cover for Bridget. Smoke filled the room and the four hurried out, coughing and sputtering. They hurried outside and down the alley where the cars were. Sam put the weapons bag in the backseat and Bridget leaned against the car.

"What," John coughed, "the hell was _that_?"

"Shadow demons," Sam said.

"No, Bridget, what did you do?" he asked her directly, wiping at the blood on his face.

She shrugged. "It was nothing."

"Didn't look like nothing when you lit the room up."

She bit her lower lip and touched her necklace. "Just because my family died, John…doesn't mean they left me completely."

He paused for a moment, eyes on her necklace. "You mean to tell me your necklace did that."

"My brother and Will still look out for me apparently…it's new to me, this is at least…"

He just nodded his head, not pressing it any further.

Sam spoke first, "All right, come on. We don't have much time. As soon as the flare's out they'll be back and I'm doubting Bridget's necklace can do that again."

"Wait, wait," Dean looked at his Dad. "Dad, you can't come with us."

"What?" Sam exclaimed. "What are you talkin' about?"

"You three – you're beat to hell."

Dean wiped at the blood, wincing slightly. "We'll be all right."

"I've had worse," Bridget said looking at the cuts on her leg just above her knee to the side. They weren't deep but they'd sting like hell.

"Dean, we should stick together. We'll go after those demons -." Sam started.

Dean cut him off, "Sam! Listen to me! We almost got Dad killed in there. Don't you understand? They're not gonna stop, they're gonna try again. They're gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right. Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He's – he's stronger without us around."

Sam turned to Bridget hoping for her to come to his aid but she shook her head, "Dean's right, Sam. Look at tonight…he has to go on his own…"

Sam spun to his father, tears in his eyes. "Dad, no," he put a hand on his dad's shoulder and Dean watched sadly, tears in his own eyes and Bridget found herself putting her hand in his, finding these tears were the ones of sorrow unlike the happiness they had had just ten minutes ago. It was taken away, robbed of them so quickly as if the balance of life said that five minutes was too much for them to have.

He continued to talk to his dad as they watched, "After everything, after all this time we spent lookin' for you –please. I gotta be a part of this fight."

"Sammy, this fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play. For now, you've gotta trust me, son. Okay, you gotta let me go," the four of them remained silent, all close to tears. Sam patted his father's shoulder and let go moving to stand next to Bridget. She slid her free hand into Sam's, clenching it in her own bloody dirty one. John smiled sadly at them, walking back to his truck. "Be careful, boys and Bridge…" And with that, he got into his truck and drove away.

They stood there a moment longer before Dean spoke, "We, uh, we better get moving," he sniffled and let go of her hand.

"Right," she nodded and looked at Sam. She turned his face to the side wincing at the scratches. "Okay, we are taking turns driving though because I am going to patch you all up one at a time starting with Sam."

"What about your leg?" he asked.

"It can go last."

"No, I'll clean it for you," he said.

"After I'm done with your face then," she argued and opened the door to the back seat, already having her med kit back there. "Get in."

With a huff he got into the backseat. She turned on the light overhead to see better and opened the kit taking out the peroxide and a clean cloth. "This is gonna hurt," she warned him and stood on her knees to better look at his cheek. She wiped the peroxide cloth against the slash marks and he hissed jerking back. She grabbed his chin, "Don't be a baby," she said and finished wiping the blood away, watching the cuts bubble lightly as the bacteria died. She tilted his head to look at them better. "It's not deep at all, no stitches needed. I'm just gonna seal them with stitching band aids though so they heal faster." She took out of the Neosporin and dabbed it on, noticing he clenched his jaw against the sting. "Oh don't be such a little girl," she teased.

"That's Samantha for you," Dean chuckled from up front, driving down the highway.

"You're next," Sam warned him. "See how you like it."

"I'm a lot tougher than you," he snorted.

Bridget finished his cheek. "Any other cuts?" She tilted his face towards her and besides his lip, that was it.

He shook his head, eyes on her in the dim light. She tried to ignore it, still looking him over. "Looks like it got your neck," she said and moved his collar down to see the light scratches there. "Those just need Neosporin, I think your good after that."

She moved back down, biting her lip as she moved her injured leg. Sam grabbed the bottle and a new cloth. "Your turn," he said.

"I can do it," she reached for the bottle but he moved it out of her reach.

"No, no. Only fair I return the favor," he said with a smile.

"Why does that sound diabolical?"

"Because it is with this bottle of death," he said.

She sighed and noticed they were sitting on wrong sides. Her right leg was scratched but Sam was sitting on her left. "How are we doing this?"

"Easy," Sam said. "Turn towards me."

Bridget moved to face him.

"Now put your right leg in my lap," Sam said scooting more towards the middle.

Bridget scooted back and twisted so her right leg was in his lap, her thigh across his. Oh this looked bad and was somewhat embarrassing. She could see Sam blush and swallow hard as he cleaned the cuts. She bit her lip to stop the hiss that wanted to escape and Sam smiled. "Does it hurt?"

"No," she said behind clenched teeth. "Feels fine."

"Then you won't mind me finishing it," he said and wiped the blood away. Her leg tensed and a small sound escaped her like a hiss of air. Sam smiled smugly and moved her skirt up her thigh to reach the rest of the cut.

"Why couldn't _I _clean the cut?" Dean asked, glancing in the review mirror.

"Because you suck at it," Sam said. He patted her leg to let her know it was done and she moved her leg down. He brushed the hair from her face and tilted her chin to look at the cut on her cheek. "That one doesn't look bad."

A dab of Neosporin on it and they were done. Dean pulled over the car so he and Sam could switch and Bridget winced at Dean. He had slash marks across his forehead and his cheek had been cut open along with a spot on his chin. "Damn Dean, it had a field day with you," she said and started dabbing at his forehead.

"Yeah well, I'm tougher than I – son of a bitch!" he exclaimed one the peroxide touched him.

"What happened to you being tough?" Sam chuckled, driving the car.

"My cuts are worse."

"Not really," Bridget said and Sam laughed.

"Bite me," he mumbled and let Bridget finish.

She put a couple band aids on."You don't need stitches either. I think were good now…injury wise."

"Yeah…" Dean trailed off. "Looks like this isn't near over yet."

"No," Sam let out a deep breath. "Looks like it's just getting started."

The silence was awkward. Dean was somewhat happy due to it not being over while Sam was distraught over it. Bridget cleared her throat and leaned against the seat. "I know one thing's for sure."

"What's that?"

"We put the fun in dysfunctional," she smiled and it caused the two brothers to laugh. Dean put his arm around her shoulders for the umpteenth time that night and she closed her eyes, putting her feet up over the front seat near Sam. It hadn't been one of their best days, but she had found Meg, she knew her face and she'd kill her eventually. But for now, her family was safe, that was all that mattered.


	12. Hell House

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but the idea of Bridget**

**S1 EP17 HELL HOUSE**

Three weeks after the Meg ordeal and Bridget was glad her cheek had healed fine. Her leg was better but she still felt it was best to wear jeans until no trace of a scar was left. She was drawing in the back seat of the car, nothing from a picture dream though. She was drawing Sam. He sat sleeping in the front seat, his face completely healed from the cuts just as Dean's was.

"Hey Bridge," Dean said.

"Hmm?"

"Watch this…get out your cell phone," Dean told her and she frowned. He picked up a plastic spoon with a deviant smile. He stuck in Sam's mouth and she rolled her eyes at the childish behavior but, like Dean, she took a picture of it.

Dean winked at her and turned up the radio. Sam burst awake and spit out the spoon, glaring at Dean and turning the radio down. "Ha ha, very funny."

"Sorry, not a lot of scenery here in east Texas, you gotta kinda make your own."

"Man, we're not kids anymore," he said. "We're not gonna start that crap again."

"Start what up?" Dean asked innocently.

"The prank stuff – it's stupid and it always escalates."

"He did it to you too?" Bridget asked.

Sam turned to look at her, "Yeah, wait. You're sayin' you two played this before?"

Bridget nodded, "Oh yeah. Not even a year after I met up with him and your dad. It started out innocently with flushing the toilet when I was in the shower to the point I put perspiration H in his toothpaste."

"That wasn't funny."

"No, funny was when I dyed your hair pink, _that _was funny. He hasn't messed with me since. So you two, have at it. But don't come crying to me," she warned them and closed her sketch book.

"We won't have at it," Sam said.

"Oh, what's the matter, Sammy, you afraid you're gonna get a little Nair in your shampoo again, huh?" Dean taunted.

Sam shrugged with a sigh, "All right. Just remember, you started it."

"Oh, bring it on, Baldy."

"Where are we anyway?" Bridget asked leaning over the seat between the brothers.

"Few hours outside of Richardson. Give me the lowdown again, Sammy," Dean said.

Sam picked the paper off the dashboard. "All right, about a month ago, this group of kids goes poking around in this local haunted house."

"Haunted by what?" Dean asked.

"Apparently, a pretty misogynistic spirit. Legend goes, it takes girls and strings them up in there rafters. Anyway, this group of kids see this dead girl hanging in the cellar."

"Anybody ID the corpse?" Dean asked.

"Well, that's the things. By the time the cops got there, the body was gone. So, cops are saying the kids are yankin' their chain."

"Maybe the cops are right," Bridget said.

"Maybe, but I read a couple of the kids' firsthand accounts. They seem pretty sincere."

"Where'd you read these accounts?" Dean questioned.

Sam bit his lower lip, fidgeting a little. "Well, I knew we were gonna be passing through Texas. So, uh, last night I searched some local…paranormal website," Dean rolled his eyes and Bridget snorted. "And I found one."

"And what is it called?" Bridget asked.

"Hell Hounds Lair dot com," he mumbled,

Dean chuckled, "Let me guess, streaming live out of Mom's basement."

Sam laughed with him, "Yeah, probably."

"Most of those websites wouldn't know a ghost if it bit them on the ass," said Bridget.

"Look, we let our Dad take off, which was a mistake, by the way. And now, we don't know where the hell he is, so, in the meantime, we've gotta find ourselves something to hunt. There's no harm checking this thing out," Sam said.

"All right," Dean gave in. "So, where do we find these kids?"

"Same place you always find kids in a town like this," Sam said.

"Ughh…a teeny bopper hang out."

"Yup…" Den said as they pulled up to the Rodeo Drive In.

"This is worse than a hanging," she mumbled, getting out of the car.

* * *

Bridget felt somewhat lucky as she sipped her soda listening to this teenage boy go on and on about the "haunted house" and the body he saw hanging from the ceiling. A quick glance at Dean with his chin resting on his hand, eyes trying to stay focused told her he was having as much fun as she was.

"It was the scariest thing in I ever saw in my life. I swear to God," the boy said to her.

"Uh huh, I'll bet…"

"The minute we walked in the walls were painted red and had these freaky symbols. Crosses and stars and pentagons."

"You don't say," she mumbled, crunching on some ice.

"But I can damn sure tell you this much, no matter what anybody else says. That poor girl with the blonde hair, she was kicking and it was real, hundred percent real."

"Okay…" she nodded. She had interviewed the other two before that and the walls went from black to red and the girl had been blonde, brunette then a red head. "So how did you find out about this place?"

"Craig took us."

Least that was one thing they all had agreed on every time.

"Where can we find Craig?"

"Record store down the way."

"Thank you so much for your time, but I need to be going," she said and slid from the booth.

"So," the boy asked giving her a smile. "You seein' anyone?"

She pointed over at Sam. "That really tall guy over there. He may look lanky but trust me, he can pack a punch, see you later."

She moved over to where Sam and Dean had finished their last interviews looking as ready to leave as she was. "Record store?"

Dean nodded, "The only thing they all agreed on. I feel like we're chasin' a ghost story."

"That's how they all start," Sam said and led the way out.

The Record Store was only a few blocks away from the diner and not a populated area. Bridget was thankful, she wasn't sure she could take anymore teenagers. A young man was stalking old albums as they walked in. "Gentleman and lady, can I help you with anything?"

"Yeah, are you Craig Thurston?" Sam asked.

"I am," he nodded.

"Well, we're reporters with the _Dallas Morning News_. I'm Dean, this is Sam and Bridget."

"No way. Yeah I'm a writer, too," he said putting the albums away. "I write for my school's lit magazine."

"Oh," Dean said with no interest. "Food for you, Morrison."

Sam gave him a look. "We're doing an article on local haunting and rumor has it you might know about one."

He froze for a moment, "You mean the Hell House?"

"That's the one," Bridget nodded.

"I didn't think there was anything on the story."

"Why don't you tell us the story?" Bridget asked, leaning across the table towards him with a sly smile.

Craig cleared his throat, fidgeting, "Well, supposedly, back in the thirties, this farmer Mordechai Murdoch, used to live in the house with his six daughters. It was during the Depression. His crops were failing. He didn't have enough money even to feed his own children. So, I guess that's when he went off the deep end."

"How?" Sam probed.

"Well, he figured it was best if his girls died rather quick than starve to death. So he attacked them. They screamed, begged for him to stop. But he just strung them up, one after another. And then, when he was all finished, he turned around and hung himself. Now, they say his spirit is trapped forever, stringin' up any other girl who goes inside," he looked at Bridget. "You should probably stay away from there in case its true."

"Where'd you hear all this?" Dean asked.

"My cousin, Dana, told me. I don't know where she heard it from. You've gotta realize, I didn't believe this for a second."

"But now you do?" Bridget asked.

He shook his head with a dry laugh in disbelief, "I don't know what the hell to think. Guys, I'll tell you exactly what I told the police, okay? That girl was real. She was dead. This was not a prank. I swear to God, I don't wanna go anywhere near that house again."

The three exchanged a look and Dean thanked him. They left the building and got into the car. "Guess we should check the place out," Dean said.

Bridget sighed, "I get to be ghost bait?"

"Well, you fit the requirements. You're female," Dean said.

She rolled her eyes, ignoring him and not able to argue for the most part. He was right after all. This farmer ghost went after girls and she was the only one available.

* * *

It was getting dark out now as they walked towards the house. It was dark and abandoned for what looked like years. The shabby roof, busted windows, creaking wood and dark exterior were the perfect beginning for a haunted house legend.

"Can't say I blame the kid," Sam said.

"Seriously a creepy place," Bridget agreed.

"Yeah, so much for curb appeal," added Dean as they walked to the side of the house. The EMF meter in Dean's hand started beeping.

"You got somethin'?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, but it's no good," Dean shook his head.

"Why?"

Dean pointed at the nearby telephone pole, "I think that thing still got juice in it. It's screwin' with all the readings."

"That'll do it," Bridget nodded.

"Well, let's go in," Dean said and opened the door gesturing at Bridget. "Ladies first."

"Gee, thanks," she said and went in, noticing the symbols on the wall.

"Looks like Old Man Murdoch was a bit of a tagger," Dean said and looked around.

"And after his time, too," Sam mumbled and pointed to different symbols on the wall, taking pictures with his cell phone as he went. "The reversed cross has been used by Satanists for centuries, but this sigil of sulfur didn't show up in San Francisco until the sixties."

Bridget and Dean stared at him for a moment.

"And you studied what in Stanford?" Bridget asked.

"See, this is exactly why you never get laid," Dean said and turned around to look at the symbols on the wall. Bridget and Sam exchanged a look and she bit her lower lip to keep from smiling. Sam grinned and covered it with a cough. Dean pointed at one of the symbols. "Hey, what about this one? You ever seen this one before?"

Sam crossed over to where Dean stood and took a picture of it, looking at it. He shook his head. "No."

Dean frowned slightly, "I have…somewhere."

Bridget ran her finger over it, "It's paint. Seems pretty fresh too."

"I don't know," Dean said. "I mean, I hate to agree with authority figures of any kind, but the cops might be right about this one."

"Yeah, maybe."

"You know what, I'll go look in the basement. It's where all this happens right?"

"Yeah, but I don't think that's safe."

"When is this job ever safe," she said and turned on her flashlight. "I'll take a quick look. If I'm not back in five minutes come get me."

"Bridge…" Sam started.

She held her hand up, "I'm bait, if nothing comes after me then it's fine. If it does, well…you guys will save the day. Five minutes."

"Three," Dean called out after her.

Bridget waved her hand and went through another room until she found the basement door. With a deep breath she went down the stairs, shining her light around. Couple old tables and chairs, few shelves with old jars containing things she probably didn't want to know. But no sign of a dead girl or angry farmer spirit.

"Ghost story after all," she mumbled under her breath.

A skittering noise caused her to spin around, aiming her flashlight in time to see a rat run across to another corner. Other than that just the empty table and cobwebs. There was nothing here. Above her a rope slowly started sinking down. She let out a deep breath deciding to go find Sam and Dean, let them know what she found or didn't find before they came to find her. So much for being bait.

The rope snaked around her neck, catching her off guard and lifted her up so her feet barely touched the floor. She dropped the flashlight, choking, trying to pry the rope loose. She couldn't breathe, couldn't call out for Sam or Dean. Her eyes searched wildly and stopped on the table. She kicked her foot out, knocking it, but it tilted back to her. She lashed her foot out again, hitting it and it tumbled over with a loud crash. She hoped they heard that. Her vision was starting to darken. She heard her name being called, heard footsteps on the stairs but couldn't see anymore.

"Bridget!" Dean yelled taking the stairs two at a time, Sam right behind him. He came to the landing and cursed when he saw Bridget hanging, barely flaying anymore as she tried to get the rope off.

Sam had already turned a chair back over and had his knife in his hand, cutting the rope and catching Bridget at the same time.

"You got her!" Dean asked panicked, helping grab Bridget and get the rope unwound from her neck. Sam moved the chair out of the way, still partially holding her and feeling her neck. He noticed the bright red marks that would surely leave a bruise and then felt her heartbeat against his fingers.

"She has a pulse," he said and Dean let out a sigh of relief. Sam tapped her cheek lightly. "Come on, Bridge, wake up."

After the third tap her eyelids fluttered and she coughed with a groan, opening her eyes. One hand touched her throat with a slight wince as she looked up at the now relieved brothers' faces. "Don't scare us like that," Dean scolded her and grabbed her hands, slowly helping her stand while Sam kept his hands on her shoulders.

"Sorry," she croaked with a rough voice. "Rope came out of nowhere."

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"I was standing here," she said clearing her throat with a grimace. "Saw nothing but a rat. I was goin' back up stairs for you guys and this rope got around my neck."

"You didn't see Murlock?" Dean asked.

She shook her head, "No, but can I say we're done for tonight. I'm done being bait."

"I say that's a damn good idea. We need to research this place some more."

She lifted her hand as they went up the stairs, Sam's hand still on her shoulder, "I volunteer to do that in a safe library."

"I'll help," Sam chimed.

Dean made sure to shut the door behind them, hoping no one was dumb enough to come back in here. A loud crash from the next room caused Bridget to jump and Sam to pull her closer while Dean took the front and walked through the doorway, prepared for a fight but bumping into two guys with cameras. One carrying a video camera the other carrying a duffel bag.

"Cut!" the guy with the camera and glasses sighed irritated. "Just a couple of humans. What are you three doing here?"

"What the hell are _you_ doin' here?" Dean countered.

"Uh, we belong here. We're professionals," he said as if they should have known.

"Professional what?" Bridget asked.

He dug in his pocket and handed them each a card. "Paranormal investigators. Take a look at that,"

"Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me," Dean rolled his eyes.

"Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler. Hell Hound's Lair dot com," Sam read off the card. "You guys run that website?"

"Yeah," Ed, the one with glasses nodded.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, we're huge fans," Dean said sarcastically.

"And, uh, we know who you guys are too," Ed said and the three exchanged nervous looks.

"Oh, yeah?" Sam asked.

"Amateurs," Ed sorted and they relaxed a bit. "Lookin' for ghosts and cheap thrills."

Bridget touched her neck where the red marks were now fading. "Yeah…cheap thrill all right."

"Yeah, so if you guys don't mind, we're trying to conduct a serious scientific investigation here," Harry huffed.

"Mmm hmmm," Ed nodded with the same frustration.

"Yeah? What do you got so far?" Dean asked, arms over his chest. If there was anything he hated more than cops it was amateurs who didn't know they were amateurs.

"Uh, Harry, why don't you tell 'em about EMF?" Ed nudged his friend.

"EMF?" Bridget played dumb.

Harry smiled brightly, the kind of know it all smile. "Electromagnetic field." He opened his bag and took out the meter. "Spectral entities can cause energy fluctuations that can be read with an EMF detector, like this bad boy right here." It started buzzing. "Whoa, whoa. That's 2.8 MG."

"2.8," Ed repeated with wide eyes.

"It's hot in here," Harry said excited. Bridget wondered if they'd feel that excitement or thrill if they had been hung up in the cellar or faced the kind of spirits she along with Sam and Dean had…she doubted it.

"Wow," Sam acted amazed.

"Huh. So, you guys ever really seen a ghost before?" Dean asked.

"Once," Ed said. "We were uh, we were investigating this old house, and we saw a vase fall right off the table."

"By itself," Harry added in a whisper as if to awe them.

"Well, we didn't actually see it, but we heard it. And something like that, it, uh – it changes you," Ed said.

Bridget bit her lower lip and acted intrigued by it all. Apparently they'd never been nearly drowned in a bathtub by a pissed off spirit before or had a shadow demon toss them around a room. Now _that_ changed you.

"Yeah, I think I get the picture," Dean said less than thrilled. "We should go –let them get back to work." He tugged on Bridget's arm and Sam followed out.

Bridget snorted once outside, unable to contain it any longer. "That was the best. I feel loads better."

"Aren't you worried Murdock will hurt 'em?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head, "They aren't girls…but I want to find out more about this house and what the hell attacked Bridget."

She sighed, "I love trips to the library…brings back old memories."

"Of janitor closets?" Dean teased and dodged her smack.

"Let's just get this over with."

"You up for it?" Sam asked, concerned.

"It's a library. As long as no ghost that hangs girls is there, I'm good."

"And you aren't wanderin' off again," Dean warned her.

She agreed to it to at least stop an argument from erupting.

* * *

Of course, her and Sam did all the research while Dean waited outside for them doing his own research on the dead girl. An hour later they had everything they could possibly find on the place. Dean was waiting for them outside.

"Hey," Sam called to his brother.

"Hey," Dean said and they walked back towards the car. "What do you guys got?"

"Well, we couldn't find a Mordechai, but we did turn up a Martin Murdoch who lived in that house in the thirties. He did have children, but only two of them – both boys. And there was no record he ever killed anybody," Sam filled him in.

"Huh?" he asked confused.

"What about you?" Bridget asked.

"Well, those kids didn't really give us a clear description of that dead girl, but I did hit up the police station. No matching missing persons – it's like she never existed," he said as they reached the car. "I mean, I wouldn't believe any of this stuff if Bridget hadn't been hangin' from the ceiling in there but we got nothin' that explains what did it and those damn Hell Hound boys are clueless. I say we just drop it."

"Something hung me from the ceiling and you wanna drop it?" she asked.

"You could've gotten tangled in something," Dean pointed out.

She thought about it. She could have stepped back and gotten tangled in the rope, not seeing it. The floor was uneven and her necklace hadn't panicked at all. "Could be right…"

"So, I say we find ourselves the nearest bar and some beers and leave the legends of the locals," Dean said and got in the car. Bridget put her hand on the handle but Sam put his arm out stopping her. She looked at him curiously and saw the smirk on his face, the glint in his eye. She took a step back and waited. The moment Dean turned it on, fast paced music blared from the speakers and the wind shield wipers went on.

"What the!" Dean exclaimed and shut it off.

Sam laughed and allowed Bridget to get in now. He was still chuckling as he made a mark in the air for his point and pointed at himself.

Dean glared. "That all you got? That's weak. That is Bush league."

Bridget smelt a war starting to brew and knew Dean would come back with something stronger.

The next day, as they were hoping to leave, they found their plans had changed. Something had happened at Hell House that night. Ambulances and sheriffs were surrounding the old building.

The trio paused next to an onlooker and Dean asked the million dollar question, "What happened?"

The man looked saddened. "Couple of cops say that poor girl hung herself in the house."

"Suicide?" Sam asked.

"Yeah…but she was a straight A student, with a full ride to UT, too. It just don't make sense," he said and walked away.

"What do you think?" Sam asked Dean as they watched the body bag get loaded into the ambulance.

"I don't think I backed into the rope after all," Bridget said and touched her neck where the light bruises had formed.

"I think we missed somethin'." Dean nodded. "We need to get back in there tonight."

* * *

Darkness came surprisingly fast and they watched from the bushes as the cops checked all the doors and put police tape up before dispersing the scene yet few cops remained behind making it impossible. They were watching from behind a couple trees in the brush.

"I guess the cops don't want kids screwing around in there anymore," Sam noted.

"Yeah, but we still gotta get in there," Bridget said and heard some whispering. She turned her head to look around and sighed. "I don't believe it."

Sam and Dean turned to see Ed and Harry walking towards the house with their equipment. These guys couldn't be any dumber.

"I got an idea," Dean grinned and shouted from behind the tree. "Who ya gonna call?"

The sheriff turned and caught sight of Harry and Ed. "Hey you!" The two cops began chasing after them and the two took off running while Sam, Dean, and Bridget slipped past them into the house.

Dean looked at the symbol again on the wall, shaking his head and pulling out his gun. "Man, where have I seen that before? It's killing me."

"Come on," Sam motioned for him to follow. "We don't have much time."

They headed towards the basement door and Sam motioned for Bridget to stay close as they moved downstairs and looked around. Dean was fascinated with the jars of goop. He held one up, "Hey, Sam, I dare you to take a swig?"

"What hell would I do that for?" he asked.

Dean was quiet for a moment, "I double dare you."

Sam shook his head and a noise from the other part of the room caught their attention. Dean put the jar down and Bridget had her weapon as ready as the others. Sam slowly opened the cabinet door and several rats scurried out. Dean jumped back in disgust, "Ughh! I hate rats!"

Bridget felt the sensation of déjà vu.

"You rather it be a ghost?" Sam asked.

"This happened last night and that's when I turned and it got me," Bridget said…slowly the three turned around and there was Mordechai with an axe in hand. Sam and Bridget both shot at him causing him to dissolve into smoke.

"What the hell kind of spirit is immune to rock salt?" Sam yelled.

"I don't know," Dean shook his head. "Come on, come on." Mordechai reappeared and started smashing shelves, Bridget and Dean fell with the impact of the debris. Moredchai swung at Sam who put up his rifle to block it,

"Go! Get out of here!" Sam shouted. Bridget shot at him again, causing it to disappear.

She grabbed Sam's hand and shoved at Dean to get him to move faster up the stairs. They bolted for the front door, bursting out of it to the point they fell to the ground, skittering to their feet and having a camera in their face from Ed and Harry. "Get that out of my face and run," Dean managed to say before taking off down the stairs. Mordechai appeared in the front doorway. They could hear Ed and Harry yell behind them but were already towards the car and gone before they could look back.

Bridget was now reading her book on the bed safe in the hotel room next to Dean who was maniacally drawing that symbol and trying to figure it out. Sam sat next to the table, doing research on the house once again.

Dean was mumbling to himself, "What the hell is this symbol? It's buggin' the hell outta me. This whole damn job is buggin' me."

"_You're_ bugging me," Bridget told him, putting her book down.

"I thought the Legend said Mordechai only goes after chicks," Dean said ignoring her.

"He does," Sam answered.

"Well, that explains why he went after you and Bridget, but why me?"

"Hilarious," Sam mumbled. "The legend also says he hung himself but did you see the slit marks on his wrist?"

"Yeah."

"What's up with that?" Sam asked. "And the axe, too. I mean, ghosts are usually pretty strict, right? Following the same patterns over and over."

"But he keeps changing," Bridget said.

"Exactly," Sam clicked on his computer bring up the Hell Hound site. "I'm tellin' you guys, the way the story goes – wait a minute," he frowned suddenly.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Someone added a new post into the Hell Hounds site. Listen to this," Sam said and read from the post. "They say Mordechai Murdoch was really a Satanist who chopped up his victims with an axe before slitting his own wrists. Now he's imprisoned in the house for eternity." Sam looked over at Bridget and Dean. "What the hell is going on?"

Dean suddenly sat up, understanding the symbol. "I don't know, but I think I might have figured out where it all started," he smiled and got off the bed. Bridget and Sam exchanged a look before following him out to the car, locking the hotel door behind them.

Bridget found herself back in the record store following Dean straight to the counter where Craig sat behind the register looking frustrated and upset.

"Hey, Craig," Dean smiled. "Remember us?"

"Guys, I'm really not in the mood to answer any more of your questions, okay?"

"Oh don't worry, we're just here to buy an album. That's all," Dean said and Craig turned away from them. Dean started looking through the albums and pulled one out. They walked over to Craig.

"You know," Dean went on. "I couldn't figure out what that symbol was, and then I realized, it doesn't mean anything. It's a logo for Blue Oyster Cult," Craig turned around looking guilty. "So, tell me, Craig – are you into BOC? Or just scarin' the hell outta people?" He handed Craig the album with the symbol on it that Dean had pondered over. "So why don't you tell us about that house without lyin' through your ass this time."

Bridget leaned against the table, listening intently with Sam and Dean as Craig explained the truth. "All right, um – my cousin, Dana, was on break from TCU, and I guess we were just bored, lookin' for something to do, so I showed her this abandoned dump I found. We thought it would be funny if we made it look like it was haunted. So, we painted symbols on the walls – some from some albums, and some from some of Dana's theology textbooks. And then we found out this guy Murdoch used to live there, so we made up some story to go along with that. So, they told people, who told other people, and then these two guys put it on their stupid website. Everything just took on a life of its own. I mean, I thought it was funny at first, but…now that girl's dead," he started to cry. "It was just a joke, you know, I mean – none of it was real. We made the whole thing up, I swear."

Bridget pulled at the neck of her shirt, "This felt pretty real to me and I wasn't laughing a whole lot."

Craig winced at the bruises on her skin and hung his head, "I'm so sorry…"

Bridget patted his shoulder, "All right."

Dean cocked his head indicating they should leave back to the hotel. Once outside Dean asked the question on all their minds. "If none of it was real, then how the hell do you explain Mordechai?"

* * *

Bridget lay on the bed on her stomach, one leg bent up as she read her book, listening to the shower water run. Sam was in there and it took every amount of will power not to want to jump him in there. Dean had stepped out and she wasn't sure when he'd be back so the risk was too high of getting caught. She turned the page in the book, focusing on the words.

The door opened and Dean stepped in with a smirk towards her. She frowned watching him move to Sam's clothes and open the small packet in his hand. She read the label: itching powder. Her eyes widened as he grabbed Sam's boxers and he motioned her to be quiet. She shook her head with a quiet chuckle. The war was on still apparently.

"Hey, I'm back," Dean shouted as the shower water finally went off.

"Hey, where were you?" Sam asked from the other side of the door.

"Oh," he tucked the empty package in his pocket. "I went out."

"So, I think I might have a theory about what's going on?"

"Oh, yeah?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. What if Mordechai is a tulpa?"

"A tulpa?" Dean repeated.

The bathroom door opened just as Bridget was about to answer but Sam was only wearing a towel and still wet. Her eyes were glued to his washboard abs and perfect chest before trailing down to the light line of hair that disappeared just below the towel. She had to remind herself to breathe and was glad Dean was occupied with not looking suspicious to notice her major staring problem.

"Yeah," Sam answered. "A Tibetan thought form."

"Yeah, I know what a tulpa is. Hey, why don't you get dressed? We'll go grab somethin' to eat," Dean smiled and went into the bathroom. Sam walked over to his clothes and glanced at Bridget.

"Staring problem there, Bridge," he said with a smirk.

She nodded still staring but trying not to laugh as he grabbed his boxers off the bed. "Oh yeah, sorry about that. It's just…you look so…" she cleared her throat and turned back to her book, turning to face the wall instead of him so he couldn't see her snicker either and Dean wouldn't think anything of him changing with her back turned. "Your body should be illegal."

Sam chuckled and she could hear him putting his clothes on. She turned back around to see him pulling his shirt down and sighed knowing there'd be no meaningless sex for at least a week. Dammit! She knew this war would affect her in the end. She'd have to end it.

* * *

At the restaurant they grabbed their food and sat down at a table. Sam was shifting uncomfortably in his seat wanting to scratch. Bridget took a bite of her burger to keep from laughing.

"Hey, what's your problem?" Dean asked Sam.

"Nothing, I'm fine," he said, still fidgeting.

"Yeah?" Bridget asked.

"Uh huh."

"All right, so, keep goin' What about these tulpas?" Dean asked, eating his French fries.

"Okay, uh, so there was this incident in Tibet in 1915. A group of monks visualized a golem in their heads. They meditate on it so hard, they bring the thing to life – out of thin air."

"So?" Dean said unimpressed.

"That was twenty monks. Imagine what ten thousand web surfers could do. I mean, Craig starts a story about Mordechai, and it spreads, goes online. Now there are countless people all believing in the bastard."

"Okay," Dean held up a hand. "Wait a second. You're trying to tell me that just because people believe in Mordechai, he's real?"

Sam fidgeted again, grimacing slightly at the urge to itch, "I don't know, maybe."

"People believe in Santa Claus. How come I'm not getting' hooked up every Christmas?"

"Cause you're a bad person," Bridget told him.

Sam typed at his laptop. "And because of this," he turned the computer so Bridget and Dean could see it. It was a picture of another symbol on the wall of the house. "That's a Tibetan spirit sigil on the wall of the house. Craig said they were painting symbols from a theology boo. I bet you they painted this not even knowing what it was. Now, that sigil has been used for centuries – concentrating meditative thoughts like a magnifying glass. So, people are on Hell Hound's website starin' at a symbol, thinkin' about Mordechai – mean, I don't know. But it might be enough to bring a tulpa to life."

"It would explain why he keeps changing," Bridget nodded.

"Right. As the legend changes, people think different things, so Mordechai himself changes, like a game of telephone. That would also explain why the rock salt didn't work," Sam said.

"Yeah, cause he's not a traditional spirit, per se," Dean said.

Sam finally scratched, "Yeah."

Bridget her smile behind her cup, drinking her soda.

Dean cleared his throat to keep his smile at bay. "Okay, so, uh, why don't we just get the spirit sigil thingy off the wall and off the website?"

"Well, it's not that simple. You see, once tulpas are created, they take on a life of their own," Sam explained.

"Great," Dean sighed. "All right, so, if he really is a thought form, how the hell are we supposed to kill an idea?"

"Well, it's not gonna be easy with these guys helping us. Check out their homepage," Sam clicked and the video showed the previous nights events at the house. "Since they posted a video, the number of hits have quadrupled in the last day alone."

"Huh…I got an idea. Come on," Dean said and Sam shut his laptop.

"Uh oh…" Bridget mumbled. "He has an idea…"

"Where are we going?" Sam asked, putting his laptop back in the satchel.

"I gotta find a copy store."

"Man, I think I'm allergic to our soap or something," Sam said fidgeting still and Dean finally started laughing, walking away. "You did this?" Sam's eyes widened. "You're a freakin' jerk!"

"Oh, yeah," Dean nodded, exiting the restaurant.

Bridget patted his back as they walked towards the door together. "I'm staying out of this war…and your pants for awhile," she smiled going on tip toe to kiss his cheek before opening the door for him. She figured Sam would get Dean back twice as hard…she grinned, this was getting good.

* * *

"So explain to me again why we're at the Scooby Doo club?" Bridget asked Dean, walking with him and Sam up to the trailer that Harry and Ed broadcasted in.

"Just act along with us to get them to buy the story," Dean told her. He banged his fist on the door of the trailer. "Come on out here, guys, we hear you in there."

Ed opened the door and Dean glanced in at all the action figures lining the walls. "Oh, look at that. Action figures in their original packaging. What a shocker."

"Guys, we need to talk," Sam said.

"Yeah, um, sorry, guys. We're, uh – we're a little busy right now," Ed apologized.

"Okay, well, we'll make it quick. We need you to shut down your website," Dean told him and Ed laughed.

"Why should we trust you guys?" he asked.

"Look, guys, we all know what we saw last night, what's in that house. But now, thanks to your website, there are thousands of people hearin' about Mordechai," Sam told him.

"That's right," Bridget nodded. "Which means people are gonna keep showing up at the Hell House, running into him in person and somebody could get hurt."

"Yeah," Ed said not buying it.

Harry on the other hand was, "Ed, maybe he's got a point."

"No, no," he shook his head. "We have an obligation to our fans, to the truth."

Dean cracked his knuckles. "Well, I have an obligation to kick both your little asses right now -."

"Dean, Dean, hey," Bridget grabbed his arm. "Forget it, all right? These guys – I could probably bitch slap them both. I could probably even them that thing about Mordechai but they're still not gonna help us. So, let's just go."

"Yeah, you're right," Dean sighed and they started to walk away. As planned Ed and Harry followed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa.," Ed said. "What did you say about -? Hold on a second there."

"Wait, wait. Yeah, what thing about Mordechai, you guys?" Harry asked.

"Don't tell them, Bridge," Sam warned.

"But if they agree to shut the website down…"

"They're not gonna do it," Dean said.

"No, wait, wait. Don't listen to him, okay? We'll do it," the three stopped walking to face Ed and Harry. "We'll do it."

"It's a secret, Bridget," Dean sighed.

"Look, it's a pretty big deal, all right? And it wasn't easy to dig up. So, only if we have your word that you'll shut everything down."

"Totally," Ed nodded eagerly.

"All right," Bridget nodded and Dean took out a piece of paper from his pocket, handing it to the boys. "It's a death certificate from the thirties. We got it at the library. Now, according to the coroner, the actual cause of death was a self inflicted gunshot wound."

"That's right," Sam nodded. "He didn't hang or cut himself."

"He shot himself?" Harry asked.

"Yup," Sam said. "With a .45. To this day, they say he's terrified of them."

"Yeah, as a matter of fact," they say if you shoot him with a .45 loaded with these special wrought iron rounds, you could kill the son of a bitch."

Ed and Harry smiled and Harry eagerly ran back to the trailer, Ed following him. The trio smiled, heading back to the car. It was almost too easy.

* * *

Bridget sat next to Sam at the restaurant, flicking a sugar packet back and forth using her beer bottle as a goal post. Dean kept pulling the string to a wooden painted fisherman that was mounted on the wall next to him. Every time he pulled the string the fisherman laughed. He'd been doing it for ten minutes. Dean pulled it again and Sam leaned across her turning it off.

"If you pull that string one more time, I'm gonna kill you," Sam warned him and Dean grinned, pulling it again. Bridget kicked Dean's shin under the table.

"Ow!"

"Sorry, my foot slipped," she apologized with a giggle.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean chided his brother. "You need more laughter in your life, you know, you're way too tense." Sam clicked on his lap top. "They post it yet?" Sam turned the computer to him so he could see they had. Dean smiled, "So how long we wait?"

He closed the laptop. "Long enough for the new story to spread and the legend to change. I figure by nightfall, iron rounds will work on the sucker."

"Awesome," Bridget said taking a drink from her beer. "Pay back is a bitch."

"Sweet," Dean smiled and picked up his beer bottle chiming it against theirs. Bridget noticed Sam's smirk as he stared at Dean. Dean went to put his bottle down, but couldn't. It was glued to his hand.

Bridget laughed covering her mouth. "No way!"

"You didn't?" Dean asked mortified.

Sam held up the small container of super glue. "Oh, I did," he reached over and pulled the string to let the fisherman laugh.

"Oh, it's almost too cruel," Bridget sighed. She partially wondered if the war was over now…and partially hoped it wasn't.

* * *

It was dark out when they reentered Hell House, each carrying a gun and a flash light. It had taken her a good hour to try and get the bottle detached from Dean's hand. It was the only downside to this war, she was left to deal with any injuries that might occur.

"I barely have any skin left on my palm," Dean grumbled.

Bridget snorted, "Yeah, I'm not touching that line with a ten foot pole. It's just too easy."

Dean glared at her and they found the door to the cellar. "So, you think old man Mordechai's home?"

"I don't know," Sam shrugged.

"Me neither," a voice said from behind him and they spun around aiming their guns at Ed and Harry who jumped back with their hands in the air, "Whoa! Whoa! Hey!"

"What are you trying to do? Get yourself killed?" Bridget hissed.

"We're just tryin' to get a book or movie deal, okay?" Ed said and everyone froze at the sound of sharpening knives coming from behind the door. "Oh, crap…you wanna open the door for us?"

Dean started taking a step back, "Why don't you?"

Mordechai burst through the door and Sam, Bridget, and Dean shot at him several times, but he only dissolved into smoke. Bridget cursed and went into the other room trying to find him with Sam and Dean.

"Oh, he's gone," Ed said dumbfounded.

"Did you get him?" Harry asked horrified.

"Oh, yeah, they got him," Ed nodded.

"No, on camera, did you get him on camera?" Harry reasked.

"Uh…I," he said and Harry took the camera from him. Mordechai suddenly appeared, destroying the camera with his axe barely missing Harry as he fell to the floor.

They reentered the room where the geeks were after not finding Mordechai.

"Did you guys post that BS story we gave you?" Dean asked them.

"Of course we did," Ed nodded helping Harry back up.

"But then our server crashed," Harry added.

"So, it didn't take it?" Bridget asked.

"Uhh…" Ed trailed off.

"So, these guns won't work?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah…"

"Great," Dean rolled his eyes. "Sam, any ideas?"

"We are getting out of here," Harry stated.

"Yeah," Ed agreed and the two left the room heading to the front door.

"He's not gonna let them leave," Bridget sighed, reloading her gun with a new clip. Ten seconds later came the screaming and the three hurried to find them before Mordechai did.

"Hey!" Bridget shouted, reaching Mordechai first where he had the boys cornered. The ghost turned to her. "Come and get me, finish what you started, you ugly son of a bitch." He swung at her and she ducked letting the axe plant itself in the wall. He swung again, this time he pinned her to the wall, choking her with the handle of the axe. "Shit..." she looked at Harry and Ed. "Get out of here! Run!"

The two ran and Dean entered pouring lighter fluid all over the floor.

"Dean, little help," she choked.

"Hey," a voice to her left said and Sam stood there with a can of aerosol and a lighter. Mordechai turned just as Sam lit it, causing a burst of flames. The ghost reared back and Bridget hit the floor. Sam grabbed her arms, helping her up, "Go, go, go! Come on!"

"What are you doing?" she asked when she stepped to Dean with Sam.

"If Mordechai can't leave the house, and we can't kill gum, we improvise," he said and dropped the lighter causing the room to burst into flames. The three of them left the house and Mordechai followed them but stopped in the doorway as they ducked behind some trees.

"That's the solution?" Sam asked. "Burn the whole damn place to the ground?"

"Well, no one will go in anymore. I mean, look, Mordechai can't haunt a house if there is no house to haunt. It's fast and dirty, but it works," explained Dean.

"What if the legend changes again and Mordechai _is_ allowed to leave the house?" Bridget asked.

"Well, then, we'll just have to come back," he said.

They were silent a moment, watching the place burn to the ground. "Kind of makes you wonder – of all the things we've hunted, how many existed just 'cause people believed in them?" Sam said and they all stood there, wondering about the very questions.

* * *

They sat on a bench outside the trailer waiting for Harry and Ed the next night. Bridget sat next to Sam, her feet up on the seat of the bench, a batch of brownies in her lap, wrapped with plastic that she had baked earlier that morning.

"Gentlemen," Ed said as he approached carrying a bag of groceries. "And lady."

"Should we tell 'em?" Harry asked Ed.

"Oh, might as well," he said with a grin. "You know they're just gonna read about it in the trades."

"So, this morning, we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer," Harry said excitedly.

"Oh yeah? Wrong number?" Dean teased.

"No, smartass," Ed said. "He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights – maybe even have us write it."

"And create the RPG," Harry added.

"The what?" Bridget frowned.

"Role playing game," he rolled his eyes at her.

"Right," she just nodded.

"It's a little lingo for ya. Any who, uh, excuse us, we're of f to La La Land," Ed said.

"Well, congratulations, guys, that sounds real great," Sam said.

"Yeah, that's awesome," Dean said.

Bridget hopped off the bench and handed them the brownies."Here, it's a good thing I made these for you then. Great reason to celebrate with brownies."

"Thank you, we do kinda deserve it," Ed said and Harry took them.

"More than you know," she grinned. "Best of luck to you."

"Oh, yeah, luck – it's got nothing to do with it. It's about talent, you know? Sheer unabashed talent…later," he and Harry got in their car which had the trailer hooked up to it. "See you around."

They drove away and once gone Bridget, Dean, and Sam started laughing walking back to their own car.

"Wow," Dean chuckled.

"I have a confession to make," Sam said, raising his hand.

"What's that?" Bridget asked.

"I was the one who called them and told them I was a producer."

"Well, I'm the one who put the dead fish in the backseat," he said and they laughed,

"Truce?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean nodded. At least for the next hundred miles," Dean said and got in the car.

Bridge folded her arms and leaned over the seat. "I got you both beat. Those brownies I made were definitely well deserved."

"How so?" Dean asked.

Bridget dropped a box on the center seat and Sam picked it up, "Chocolate laxatives?"

"Well, they are full of shit," Bridget grinned and Sam and Dean laughed.

"Oh, I am never pissing you off," Sam shook his head and they drove off to their next destination. Hoping this one would be easier to kill than the last.


	13. Proverance

**DISCLAIMER: Again I wish I owned Sam and Dean. And Bridget is based off the idea of Brooke from OTH videos I see on YouTube. This chapter gets more into her character and Will's death, plus more her and Sam. Enjoy**

**S1 EP19 PROVERANCE**

Bridget took a swig of her beer, sitting next to Sam who was leafing busily through John's journal, too distracted to even notice she had dressed up for him. It wasn't every day she wore a black cocktail dress out to a bar…hell, it wasn't every day she wore a dress period. Especially with painful heels. She thought it would be nice for him but she might as well have been wearing a baggy shirt with sweats and her hair in a bun instead of freshly done. She leaned her chin on her hand watching Dean work his charm on a young bartender. Some days she wondered if she had fallen for the wrong brother. At least Dean paid attention to her, but Sam was the sweeter and more sensitive of the two. He actually had feelings that didn't always include lust and horniness.

Sam tapped on her shoulder and she had a moment's thought that he actually took notice until she turned to read the headline he was holding up to her. "Couple's throat slash," she read. "How romantic."

Sam was already waving Dean over who reluctantly moved to the table, pulling up a seat next to Bridge.

"Okay, so, I think I got something," Sam said, gesturing at the newspaper.

Dean nodded, glancing at the bar waitress across the way. "Oh yeah. Me too. I think we need to take a little shore leave. What do you think, huh? I'm so in the door with this one."

Bridget rolled her eyes, spinning her bottle while Sam sighed. "So what are we today, Dean? Army rangers? Rock stars?"

"Realty TV Scouts looking for people with special skills."

"Dear God," Bridget mumbled and shook her head with a snort.

"I mean, it's not that far off, right? By the way, she's got a friend over there, I can probably hook you up," he told Sam and Bridget bit her lip. This whole dating under the radar was starting to get on her nerves when it came to Dean pushing him to date other girls.

"No thanks," he said with a slight glance at Bridget that went unnoticed even to her. "I can get my own dates."

"Yeah, you can, but you don't," Dean pointed out and her grip on the bottle tightened.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked and Bridget waited to here the answer.

"Nothing, just that you don't date girls very often and there's a lot of them where we go that show interest, even if it's only a night."

"What am I? A guy?" Bridget asked. "I'm with you guys all the time."

"Yeah," Dean said. "But you're like us. You're out of the norm and guys like us need someone of the norm to keep us grounded, give us reason to keep doin' this. You're not one of 'em, Bridgey."

She nodded her head, letting the words sink in. He had a point…she wasn't normal. She was a hunter like they were and nothing good could come of two broken pieces, besides, she was cursed after all. It was better this way. "So…what do you got, Sam?" she asked changing the subject and submerging the emotions.

"Mark and Anne Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their home just a few days ago."

"Mmmhmmm," Dean mumbled still watching the girls at the bar.

"Throats were slit, there were no prints, no murder weapons – Dean," he said snapping his fingers in Dean's direction to get his attention back. "No prints, no murder weapons, all doors, and windows were locked from the inside."

"Could just be a garden variety murder, you know, not our department," Dean said.

"No, Dad says different," Sam said.

That caught Dean's attention. "What do you mean?"

"Look," he turned the journal to face Dean and Bridget. "Dad noted three murders in the same area of upstate New York. First one, in 1912, the second one in 1945 and the third in 1970. The same M.O. as the Telescas – the throats were slit, the houses were locked from the inside. Now, so much time has passed between the murders that nobody checked the pattern, except for Dad. He always kept his eyes peeled for another one."

"And now we got one," Bridget nodded.

"Exactly," Sam agreed.

"All right, I'm with you. It's worth checkin' out."

"We're going to New York?" Bridget asked.

"Looks like," Sam nodded.

She spun her bottle again nodding her head.

"We can't pick this up til morning anyway though, right?"

"Yeah," Sam said slightly confused.

"Good," Dean stood and headed back to the bar where the two girls sat smiling at him.

Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed the papers and journal. "You wanna head back to the hotel?"

Bridget nodded, abandoning the bottle and leaving with Sam, ignoring any and all looks and cat calls she received along the way. Luckily it wasn't a long walk back to the hotel. Once there she removed her high heels and turned on the computer.

She typed quickly at the keys while Sam removed his jacket and shoes. She googled New Paltz and mapped it to Catskill. It was an hour away by car. She bit at her nail, shutting the computer off. She'd be in the area, she had to go see them…but more importantly she had to go see him. Her hand brushed the ring on her necklace and she bit back her tears, standing up and running her fingers through her hair, resting her hands on the dresser. She hadn't seen Will's parents since they picked up his body in the Denver morgue and they had been anything but happy with her. After all their only child had died because of her, what wasn't there to hate? He died because he loved her, he died because he was with her. She was cursed.

Arms encircled her waist, pulling her from her thoughts, towards a warm body. Sam nestled her hair. "You know, I don't think I told you that this was a very nice dress you wore tonight."

"No, you forgot to mention that."

"Sorry, I was distracted with the case."

She nodded her head, "It happens, least you notice now that we have the hotel room…alone…no one around."

"Exactly," he said into her hair.

She sighed. Of course he didn't get what she meant by that. After all, she was nothing but sex and she could be nothing more just like Dean said. She was one of them; broken, abnormal. Two wrongs never made a right. She felt him unzip the back of her dress and pushed her emotional baggage to the back of her mind for now. There'd be plenty of time for that in New York…plenty of time when she went to visit Will…and possibly his parents.

* * *

She leaned her head against the window, waiting for Sam to finish in the Telesca house. Dean was snoozing in the front seat after a long night with his two bar bimbos. She felt just as tired having hardly slept last night and not for reasons she would have preferred. She'd stayed up, looking at Sam and wondering how she was supposed to let go of her feelings for him because it would never work. She rolled over after awhile only to be tormented by thoughts of what to say and do with Will's family…and about seeing Will's grave for the first time. The thought brought her heart to her throat. She thought being in New York would make it easier but it made her more nervous and panicked. She'd have to go soon…

Sam leaned through the driver's side and honked the car startling not only Dean awake but her out of her thoughts.

"Man, that is not cool," he grumbled.

Sam got into the car, "I just swept the Telesca house with the EMF. It's clean. And last night, while you were…out…"

Dean grinned, "Good times."

"I found time to take the history of the house. No haunting, no violent crimes, nothing strange about the Telescas themselves either," he said. By found time, he meant after he and Bridge had their night of Dean's equivalent to fun.

"All right, so if it's not the people and it's not the house then…what? We got a cursed object or something?" Bridget asked, leaning across from the back.

Sam shook his head. "The house is clean."

"We know, you said that," Dean pointed out.

"No, I mean, it's empty. No furniture, nothing."

"Where's all the stuff then?" Bridget asked with a slight frown.

"Auction house," Sam said.

"Well, let's get on down there," Dean said. "See what they had."

* * *

Rich wealthy people in their Gucci dresses and prada bags, men in well tailored suits driving flashy sports cars. It was enough to make Bridget want to gag. She's take her dark blue jeans and Victoria Secret bra top with the little belt in the middle. She wore a dark fit jacket over it since the back was only the bra strap of the shirt, hence it being a bra top. Gotta love built in bras and it let her necklace settle in perfect view just above her chest. She stayed close to the brothers, ignoring the stares of the wealthy since they stood out like sheep amongst wolves.

"Silent auctions," Dean mumbled, grabbing some food off a tray. "Estate sales – it's lie a garage sale for W..S's if you ask me."

A stern faced gentlemen with graying and receding hair approached them with a smile that said they weren't welcome. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Sam Connors, this is my brother Dean and our friend Bridget Smith. We are art dealers with Connor Smith Limited."

"You're art dealers?" he said skeptically.

"That's right," Bridget nodded noticing him look over her twice paying a bit too long on her chest.

"I'm Daniel Blake, this is my auction house. Now, this is a private showing and I don't remember seeing you on the guest list.

"Oh we're there, Chuckles," Dean said, butting in before Sam could be polite. He was sick of polite when it came to these people. "You just need to take another look." He grabbed a class of champagne handing Bridget one and taking another before walking away. Bridget smirked at Daniel, following Dean.

After a few minutes of looking around Bridget came across the Telesca painting that had been in there house. "Dean, Sam…found the painting…it's creepy."

Dean came over and looked it over. "They look like the monster family," he mumbled.

"A fine example of American primitive, wouldn't you say?" another voice said and the three turned around to see a young woman, no older than Bridget coming down the stairs in black dress that matched her long flowing black hair and complemented her blue eyes. Dean nudged Sam, and he nudged him back. Bridget smacked them both since they lost all instinct around attractive women.

"Well," Sam cleared his throat. "I'd say it's more Grand Wood than Grandma Moses…but you knew that, you just wanted to see if we did."

"Guilty," she smiled. "And clumsy, I apologize. I'm Sarah Blake."

"I'm Sam, this is my brother, Dean, and our friend Bridget," he introduced.

"Can I help you three with something?" she asked.

"Yeah," Bridget cut in, feeling a tad bit jealous. "What can you tell us about the Telesca estate?"

She winced, "The whole thing is pretty grisly, if you ask me, selling your things this soon. But, Dad's right about one thing. Sensationalism brings out the crowds – even the rich ones."

"Is it possible to see the provenances?" Sam asked.

Sarah was about to speak when her father cut her off. "I'm afraid there isn't a chance of that."

"Why not?" Bridget asked.

"You're not on the guest list and now it's time for you to leave."

"Well, we don't have to be told twice," Dean said.

"Apparently, you do," he said rudely.

Bridget was about to say something when Sam grabbed her arm. "It's okay, sir. We don't want any trouble, we'll leave."

Bridget bit her lip, focusing on Daniel's glass. It shook a bit before shattering in his hand, his champagne spilling over his shirt. She smiled, "You might want to invest in crystal instead of cheap Proline glass. Tends to leave messes," she said and jerked her arm from Sam, walking out with a smirking Dean and an apologetic Sam.

* * *

They grabbed their bags from the car, heading towards the hotel room.

Dean was still chuckling, "Classic that you broke this glass."

"Who said I did it? It was cheap glasses," she shrugged.

"You're getting better at that," Dean noted.

"I was mad."

"Was it necessary though," Sam asked her as Dean put the key in the door.

She smiled a bit, "No, it was fun."

They stepped into the room and froze. It was decorated in 70's theme with disco patterned wall paper and chrome furniture. "Huh," the three mumbled at the same time.

Bridget shook her head and put her stuff on one of the beds, not caring who she was sharing with tonight. She removed her jacket, tossing it on the back of a chrome chair and dug through her shoulder bag for the print out she made.

"What was it, the providence?" Dean asked.

Bridget snorted correcting him, "Provenance."

"What is that?"

"It's a certificate of origin, like a biography, you know?" Sam explained. "We can use them to check the history of the pieces, see if anything's got a freaky past."

"Huh. Well, we're not gettin' anything out of Chuckles, but, uh, Sarah?" he smirked.

Bridget's fingers tightened on the folded paper in her hand.

"Yeah, maybe you can get her to write it all down on a cocktail napkin."

Dean chuckled. "Not me."

Bridget froze slightly and Sam shook his head, "Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Pickups are your thing, Dean."

"It wasn't my ass she was checkin' out."

"In other words you want me to get the information."

"Sometimes you gotta take one for the team," he said and held out his cell phone.

Sam took it and made the call for dinner at seven with her. Bridget sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the nervousness in Sam's voice. Why wouldn't he be nervous? Beautiful girl like Sarah, normal future ahead of her. Able to have all the things Bridget couldn't. She glanced at the paper in her hand. The reminder of why she could no longer have those things.

Dean looked in his duffel bag and cursed, "Damn, forget my gun in the car." He left the room and Bridget followed him out, feeling more drained than ever before suddenly.

Dean noticed her when he turned back around, gun tucked in the back of his pants. He smirked at her. "If you wanted a quickie, you could've just asked."

"I need to borrow the car."

His smirk faded into a frown."Why?"

"I just have somewhere I need to run to and you guys don't need me tonight. It won't take long anyway."

"Well, where you goin'?"

"It's kind of personal. There's just somewhere I need to visit."

"I'm goin' with you," Dean said and headed towards the car.

Bridget put her arm out, stopping him. "No, you need to stay with Sam and help him with the case. I'll be fine. I'll be back in a couple hours."

"No, you're not takin' my car for a few hours especially when you're not tellin' me where you're goin' with it. Besides, Sammy's got his dinner date with Sarah, I'm gonna have nothing to do as it is," he told her.

"It's one o'clock. I'll be back before it's even seven and we can go to a bar." She felt she'd need a drink or four after this.

"Uh uh, I'm goin'."

She was losing patience now and close to begging. "Dean, please. Nothing will happen to your car. There's just somewhere I need to go, okay?"

"Not okay, not by yourself in _my_ car."

"I can go by myself, Dean. I'm a big girl. I've driven your car without you before," she said irritated with his stubbornness.

"Not in an emotional state you're not," he shook his head.

"I'm not emotional!"

"Uh huh, that's why you have dark spots under your eyes, it's a new beauty secret. It's why you haven't been yourself the last two days. What the hell is goin' on, Bridge?"

Her hand tightened on the directions on the paper, "Just…just give me the keys and I'll be back in four hours tops."

"Not until you tell me where you're goin' and why," he said arms over his chest.

She growled in frustration. "Dean!"

"I'm goin' with you Bridge. You can explain it on the way," he said.

"You need to stay and help Sam," she told him.

Sam picked that moment to come outside. "Help me with what?"

"The case," she said taking a breath. "Dean needs to stay and help you with the case while I go run an errand."

"What errand?" Sam asked.

"Exactly what I'm tryin' to figure out," Dean said.

Sam moved closer to Bridge and she backed up a couple steps. "What's wrong, Bridge?"

"Nothing," she shook her head. "I just have somewhere I need to go."

"Where?"

"Jesus, it's none of your business, either of yours."

"Exactly why I'm not lettin' you drive my car. You're too emotional. Let me go with you."

"No, I don't need anyone to go with me," she was so frustrated she was pretty sure her power could throw the damn car. "I have to do this alone."

"Alone in this state," Sam shook his head. "No, we're going with you."

"No, you have dinner with Sarah," she said.

"You said it'd be a couple hours. We can spare a couple hours if it's to help you," said Dean and the caring and emotion was becoming too much for her. She didn't want it. Not after everything she'd done, not when everyone she loved was destined to die.

"I…I have to…I can't…please just…" she stumbled with her words. She could feel tears finally starting to overwhelm her and her emotions were being held back by a paper thin wall.

"Where do we need to go?" asked Dean.

She took another deep breath. "Catskill. It's about an hour from here, up north."

"What's in Catskill?" asked Sam.

She felt the tears stream down her cheeks now and her voice cracked on the only word she could speak. "Will…"

Dean and Sam stood frozen, finally getting it. Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "That's what has you in such a wreck…I take it that's where his parents live too."

She nodded unable to speak.

"Will's buried there?" Sam asked Dean.

He nodded, "Yeah, Bridge told me bout it awhile back. Will's parents transported his body from Denver to New York, had him buried in his hometown."

"I've…I've never been to visit him…I didn't even get to go to the funeral," she sobbed a bit on the last word but kept going, not caring that she was crying or that they were watching her most vulnerable side. "They had his funeral the same day as my brother's and his family's. I caught a late flight out to go see them, to see Will, and when I got to their house they had me removed from their property. I wasn't welcome to see his grave or speak to them…they…they blamed me for his death and how can I argue when their right."

Sam's hand touched her shoulder, his other tilting her head up to look at him. "It was not your fault, Bridge. It was Meg. Not you. There was nothing you could have done to stop any of it. You tell me that all the time about Jessica…it goes for you too…you couldn't stop it. It wasn't your fault."

She let out a sob. "I never got to say good-bye."

He pulled her into a hug, rubbing her back. "You will…we'll take you to go see him." He looked over at Dean who nodded his head and started the car. Bridge sat up front between the two brothers and they drove to Catskill, to get over the next big hurtle and so Bridget could finally let him go and say good-bye.

* * *

She stared at the tree in the cemetery across from the church. She'd been standing there for five minutes unmoving making it part way through before freezing. Her heart was in her throat, she wasn't sure she could do this, if she could bring herself to walk across the finely trimmed green grasses, past all the headstones to reach the one left of the willow tree. She could see the tree from where she stood, fingers clutching the stem of the rose in her hand. She had to remind herself to breathe and glanced over her shoulder at Sam and Dean. They were leaning against the car and Dean nodded at her to go ahead, they'd be waiting for her. She turned back, brushing the hair from her face and started walking, step by step towards the tree.

Bridget walked towards the headstone, eyes never leaving it or the name etched on it. Every step made her heart pound harder until she was directly in front of it. She kneeled down, fingers tracing the stone down the face of it to trace the letters of his name. Her other hand set the rose down in front of it where flowers already sat in the hole next to it. His parents had been there recently.

She took a deep breath, running her fingers through her hair, "Hey Will…I'm sorry I haven't been by…been busy as you probably know. I just…I had to come see you while I was nearby…only took a few years, four long years. If its any condolence I haven't seen my brother or my nephew in four years…it's just," tears glimmered in her eyes, "it's too hard. I know there were some things we couldn't have if we were together, like kids, but I was okay with that because I loved you…I still do…part of me died with you that night, it still hurts and I'm not sure I'll love anyone else, it feels wrong. It feels like I need you to be okay with it, that I need to be okay with it and I want to be it's just I'm scared to lose anyone else like I lost you…but I'm healing…I have help," she looked over her shoulder. They were still by the car and they waved when they saw her looking. A smile crossed her face and she looked back at the headstone. "They're good guys, you'd like them, I know I do…I want you to know I found her…I found the bitch who did this and she'll pay for it, I promise…I need you to help me though. To help all of us like you have been, I can't do this without you," her hand trailed down the stone. "I better be going, I'll visit again someday, I promise…I love you," she patted the stone and stood up, touching the ring around her neck as she walked away. She paused looking back as a flock of birds flew away from the willow. She shook her head, heading back to the car.

"You okay?" Sam asked.

"I'm feeling better," she said, pushing her hands in her pockets.

* * *

The door opened and an older woman with graying blonde hair and a cashmere sweater opened the door. Her brown eyes narrowed at the sight of Bridget. Time hadn't changed their feelings she saw. "Bridget," she said her name as if it left an unpleasant taste in her mouth. "What an unpleasant surprise."

"Hello Mrs. Ledgerman," she nodded her head, she already felt Dean tense a few feet behind her. She was used to this behavior from the older woman.

"And you brought company with you…how lovely," she said with a distasteful tone that set Dean grinding his teeth.

"These are my friends, Sam and Dean," she introduced.

"Friends…I'm sure," she snorted.

"Honey, who is it?" a gentleman came to the door then. His dark brown hair a bit unruly and warm brown eyes less cold than his wife's. He looked like the older version of Will. "Bridget? Wow, it's been awhile," unlike his wife he seemed welcome to the idea of her. Will's mother had never really liked her to begin with.

"Not long enough," Mrs. Ledgerman said.

"Look, I know you don't like me much but I was in New York and thought I'd at least say hello," she said.

"That was nice of you," Mr. Ledgerman smiled warmly, standing a foot away from his wife who's glare could stop a bear in its tracks.

"Not nice enough. Why don't you and your play toys leave now."

That was it for Bridget, "All right, I've tried being nice. I stayed away for four years and I've been nothing but polite about it."

"You didn't go to the funeral," she said.

"Because you had it the same day as my brother's and his family. I wasn't about to skip my brother's funeral. All I wanted to do today was stop by and say hello and put this all behind us instead you're rude to me and my friends."

"You killed my son," she seethed.

"I didn't kill your son. I loved Will!" she said angrily. "But I know who did and believe me, they will pay because the same people that killed my family and Will killed their family," she pointed at Sam and Dean. "You can blame me all you want if you need someone to point the finger at, but I'm done blaming myself and I'm done trying to suck up to you and kiss your ass. You can disrespect me all you want and call me a whore if you will, but you don't disrespect my friends, they're the only family I have and I'm pretty fierce when it comes to that nowadays, as you can understand. But once I find the bitch that killed your son, I'd like an apology from you and then you can spend four years kissing my ass," she smiled pleasantly at her. "Have a nice day."

Mrs. Ledgerman's eyes widened and her husband had his hand over his mouth trying to hide his grin. He was amused. "You're welcome here anytime, Bridget," he said.

"Thank you, Mr. Ledgerman," she called back, already walking back to the car with Sam and Dean.

She sighed once in the car, running her fingers through her hair. Dean whistled. "That was some tell off. I'm shocked you didn't deck her."

"I think she got the message," she said with a nod.

"How do you feel now?" Sam asked.

She settled back into the middle of the seat, between the two boys she cared the most for in the world. "Much, much better…I needed this."

"I can tell," Dean mumbled, driving back down the highway.

"Thank you guys," she said after a minute. "For going with me even when I didn't want you too. I needed that."

"Don't mention it," said Dean.

"It's what we do, look out for each other," Sam said, settling his arm behind her on the seat. She smiled and then reminded herself he had a date that night with Sarah. It could never be. She kept the smile anyway, knowing she'd have to get used to forcing it from now on.

* * *

"I can't believe you actually came willingly to a bar with me, just like ol' times," said Dean with a smile. "Brings back fond memories, don't it?"

"Of kicking your ass at darts and pool and winning your money," she said fondly as she sat on a barstool at a table next to him. "You remember the rule right?"

He let out a breath, "Yeah, yeah, no picking up on chicks. You do know that means I get to irritate you all night now?"

"I'm lookin' forward to it," she waved down the bar maid and ordered two beers and four shots of patrone.

Dean looked surprised when she came back and set two in front of Dean with the beer, "Shots so soon."

Bridget gave the lady a twenty and picked up a shot, tilting her head at him. "Gettin' too old for it, Deano."

He picked it up, "Not on your life, Bridgey."

She downed the shot with him wincing slightly and set it on the table."Good, because I need this after today."

He nodded sipping his beer, "Yeah, I feel I need it after hearin' that woman speak for ten minutes. I'd have slugged her if she was a guy."

"Yup, one of the reasons I'm drinking," she thought of Sam out with Sarah and downed the other shot followed by a drink from her beer. "Let's go play pool."

Dean finished the shot he had and grabbed his beer. "So eager to lose?"

"So soon to predict?"

"What do I get if I win?" he asked, picking up a pool stick.

"Hmm," she licked the inside of her cheek. "If I win, you and Sam get to share a bed for a week and I get to drive the car for a week."

He winced, "And if I win? This better be good?"

"You win fifty bucks."

"That's it?"

She huffed, "And you get to choose if you want a bed by yourself or share it with me since I doubt you'd share with Sam."

"That it?"

She rolled her eyes, "And I'll kiss you, is that enough?" she asked.

He contemplated it, "That'll work." She racked up the pool balls and he took the first shot, getting solids. He grinned at her. "Prepare to be out fifty bucks and a kiss."

Bridget studied the table towards the end of the game. The ball was near the eight ball. She'd have to fit it hard enough to bounce it off the side and get it into the corner pocket without hitting the eight ball in. For an amateur it'd be a difficult move, but not for Bridget. This game was as good as hers. She'd get the bed to herself for a week.

She lined up the shot and glanced at Dean's smirking face, waiting for her to miss it. It was just like old times, just the two of them pool hustling and drinking just for the fun of it, having a good time before there was a Sam in the picture. She felt a twinge at the thought of Sam, thinking of him for the first time in over an hour while he was on his date with Sarah. With a sigh, her eyes went back to the table and she hit the ball harder than necessary, causing the eight ball to fall into the hole.

"Yes!" Dean said and grinned. "You owe me fifty bucks."

She smiled and shook her head, "Thought I had that shot," she handed him the fifty she had in her pocket. Truth being she didn't want to sleep alone. She wanted that comfort of having someone near her, even if she was nothing more than "one of them". It was better than nothing.

"I'm unbeatable, it's okay," he plucked the money from her hand.

She looked at her watch, "Sam will be back soon. We better get to the hotel."

"So soon?"

"We can pick up a six pack along the way and play poker if you want because I'm sure I'd kick your ass and then you'll be out of clothes."

"Sounds kinky," he said following her out. "And you still owe me that kiss."

"Do you want it now or later?"

"You make it sound like such a burden," he snorted.

"Well?" she asked standing by the passenger side door of the Impala.

"Later," he shrugged. "I'll spring it on you."

"Oh good, something to look forward to," she teased as they headed back to the hotel in the car, skipping on the beer idea.

Once at the hotel she noticed Sam wasn't back yet. She took her knives out of the back seat, deciding to clean them while she had a chance. She almost reached the door when Dean pulled her back by her free hand. She spun around to him, caught off guard by his sudden kiss as his hands cradled her face. The tension left her body in that instant and she found herself enjoying it…a kiss from Dean, a _real_ kiss from Dean, not the one he suckered out of her before they were busted by Meg. No he went all out with this one. He pulled back and she was still dazed. He flashed her his usual smirk. "Told ya I'd sneak it from you."

"I admit I didn't see that comin'. But I am predicting you trying to cop a feel tonight," she patted her knife case. "It's why I'm bringing reinforcements."

He winced at the case, "Maybe I won't try tonight."

"Good idea," she nodded and followed him outside trying to leave the kiss at the door but found herself thinking about it as she polished her knives on the bed.

It wasn't long before Sam was back, changing into his usual jeans and t-shirt with a plaid shirt over it. Dean was sitting next to her, sharpening his own knives. "So she just handed the provinces to you?"

Bridget chuckled at his stupidity, "It's provenances."

"Pro-provenances," he sounded out.

She patted his head. "Very good."

"I went back to her place and got the copy of the papers," Sam said.

"And?" Dean pressed further.

"And nothing, that's it. I left."

"You didn't have to con her or do any special favors?"

"Dean, would you get your mind out of the gutter, please?" Sam asked.

"You know, when this whole thing is done, we could stick around for a little bit,"

"Can we not," Bridget said suddenly and covered for the eagerness on her answer. "I just don't want to be in New York any longer than I have to be."

Sam was distracted by something in the papers, "I think I got something here."

Bridget and Dean moved across the room, each leaning over one of Sam's shoulders to see.

"Portrait of Isaiah Merchant's family painted in 1901," Dean read.

"Now, compare the names of the owners with Dad's journal," Sam spun the journal around and Dean took a seat. Bridget stayed near Sam.

"First purchased in 1912 to Peter Simms," Bridget read off the paper in front of Sam. He pointed in the journal in front of Dean to read the line in there.

"Peter Simms murdered in 1912," Dean reached for the paper comparing it to the journal.  
"Same thing in 1945…same thing in 1970."

"Then stored until it was donated to a charity auction last month where the Telescas bought it. So, what do you guys think, is it haunted or cursed?" Sam asked.

"Either way, it's toast," Dean said.

"Good thing I'm already wearing black," Bridget smiled.

* * *

Security was not a thing to brag about at the auction house. Neither were the pathetic locks they had on the door or the alarm system. Bridget easily removed the box from the wall and undid the wires. She nodded at Sam and Dean, "Go on in."

"You usually disarm systems?" Sam whispered to her.

She shrugged, "Sometimes your Dad, Dean, and I had to get into a place that was set up. Luckily, I already knew how to disable alarms from my brother. He was a computer geek."

"Got it," Dean called out to them. He was already cutting the painting out of the frame and heading back to them with it in hand.

They headed outside where he laid it on the ground, lighting a match. "Ugly ass thing. If you ask me, we're doin' the world of art a favor." He dropped the match on it, setting it in flames. "Well, I say we go back to the hotel. I got a six pack waitin' for me and Bridget promised to play strip poker."

"You're just gonna lose your clothes again," Sam told him.

"I told him that too, he just doesn't listen," Bridget said.

Sam chuckled, "It'll be an interesting night."

"You game, Sammy?" Dean asked. "Or are you afraid?"

"I'm afraid to see you naked."

* * *

Bridget sat tying her boots up on the bed, deciding it was good enough weather to wear her denim skirt and another of her camisole tops that laced up in the front. How she loved Victoria Secret. Sam was packing his stuff up in the duffel bag on the other bed. As she had predicted Dean had made her sleep in his bed and only touched her twice. The first he touched her thigh, the second he tried her ass and learned how hard she could smack half asleep.

It had been a long night after all. Three six packs later they had a good game going. Halfway through the second pack Dean was already out his shoes, socks, jacket and one shirt. Sam was out his jacket, over shirt, and shoes and Bridget had all her clothes intact. She realized why they wore so many layers of clothes now. The game had ended with Dean in his boxers and Sam barefoot with only his jeans and under shirt. She called it a night then since she had only lost her boots and didn't want Dean completely naked.

He was currently changing in the bathroom.

"So," Sam said setting the bag on the bed. "You shared a bed with Dean last night?"

"Yeah," she nodded, brushing her hair. "He won a bet at the bar last night."

"You two went to the bar?"

"You were getting the papers from Sarah, Sam, and we were bored. I wasn't going to sit up in here and do nothing so we hit the bar for old times sake. We played pool and I made a bet and I lost so Dean got fifty bucks and I get to sleep in his bed and fend him off for a week while fighting for blankets and room instead of driving the impala and making _you_ fend for the bed room."

He chuckled, "Looks like I got lucky in a way then."

"Tell me about it," she mumbled.

Dean came out of the bathroom then, frantic. "We've got a problem. I can't find my wallet."

"What?" Bridget exclaimed turning around.

"How is that a problem?" Sam asked.

"'Cause I think I dropped it in the auction house last night."

"You're kidding!" Bridget said.

"It's got my prints, my ID – well, my fake ID anyway. We've gotta get it before somebody else finds it, come on."

Bridget and Sam followed him out. And here she thought they were going to have a clean exit from this town, case closed. But Dean, being the moron he could be, made it difficult.

"How did you lose your wallet, Dean?" Sam asked as they searched the floor.

"I don't know."

"You are such a moron," Bridget mumbled, looking under a table.

"Hey guys," she jumped and spun around seeing Sarah standing there.

"Sarah," Sam said in surprise. "Hey!"

"What are you guys doing here?" she asked curiously.

"Uh, we – we're leaving town, and you know, thought we'd say goodbye."

Dean grinned stepping up next to Bridget and Sam. "Oh, what are you talkin' about, Sam? We're stickin' around for at least another day or two."

Bridget frowned as clueless as Sam. "We are?"

"Yeah," Dean said and reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. Her eyes widened. He tricked them. He had his wallet the entire time. "Oh, Sam, by the way, I wanted to give you that twenty bucks I owe you. I'm always forgettin'." He handed it to Sam with a straight face who looked as annoyed and frustrated as Bridget. "There ya go."

Dean grabbed Bridget's arm. "Well, we'll leave you two crazy kids alone. Bridge and I are gonna go…have lunch…or something…have a good time."

Once outside Bridget smacked his arm, "You are such an ass."

He chuckled, "He needs to spend time with a nice normal girl."

She winced slightly, remembering she wasn't normal. "I could throw you into a wall right now."

"Ah, save it. Let's go get something to eat. I owe it to you," he said, heading towards the car.

"What do you mean you owe me?"

"You botched your shot last night on purpose, I owe you fifty bucks worth of food."

"I didn't -."

"Gimme a break," he said with a slight smile. "I've seen you make that shot a hundred times without blinking and for whatever reason, you missed it last night."

She shook her head getting in the car. "So you know I missed the shot but you kissed me anyway?"

He grinned, "You lost either way, I wasn't 'bout to miss out on that…besides I like our alone hang outs. Reminds me of the good ol' days."

"You're unbelievable," she shook her head at him. She frowned looking out the window and seeing Sam come out of the building, a look of panic on his face. "What the…"

The door opened and Bridget scooted over to let him slide in. He shut the door looking at them with a serious face. "We got a problem."

"She's married?" Dean asked.

"The painting…it's back."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"It's still there. I just saw two guys carrying the damn thing."

"But we burnt it."

"Yeah, thank you Captain Obvious," Dean said. "All right, we just need to figure out another way to get rid of it. Any ideas?"

"Okay," Bridge sat there thinking, feeling incredibly short between them. "Well, um, in almost all lore about haunted paintings, it's always the subject of the painting."

"Yeah?" Dean asked. "Okay, so, we need to figure out everything there is to know about that creepy ass family in that creepy ass painting. What are their names again?"

* * *

They stood in the library at the information desk talking to one of the older librarians. "You said the Isaiah Merchant family, right?"

"Yeah, that's right?" she nodded to the older man.

"I dug up every scrap of local history I could find. So, uh, you kids crime buffs?"

Dean rolled his eyes at the word 'kids', but compared to this guy they were. "Kind of. Why you ask?"

"Well," he held up a page to an old newspaper. The headline read 'Father Slaughters Family, Kills Self'.

"That sounds about right," Bridget nodded.

"The whole family was killed?" Sam asked.

"It seems this Isaiah – he slit his kid's throats, then his wife, then himself. Now, he was a barber by trade – used a straight razor."

"Why'd he do it?" Sam asked.

"Well, let's look," he began reading from the article. "Uh, 'People who knew him described Isaiah as having a stern and harsh temperament and controlled his family with an iron fist.' Wife, two sons, adopted daughter …there were whispers that the wife was gonna take the kids and leave, which, of course, you know, in that day and age…so, instead, Old Man Isaiah – well, he gave them all a shave," he made a shaving gesture with his hands and laughed. Dean chuckled but Bridget and Sam remained serious.

"Does it say what happened to the bodies?" Bridget asked.

"It just says they were all cremated."

Bridget exchanged an annoyed glance with Sam and Dean.

"Anything else?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, actually, I found a picture of the family. Its right here somewhere," he opened another book and turned it around so they could see it. It was an exact copy of the painting. Bridget frowned, Isaiah was looking straight ahead in this one though. In the painting they burnt he was looking at his daughter.

"Could we get a copy of this?" she asked.

"Sure," he nodded and proceeded to make the copy. This case was getting weird, even by her standards.

* * *

Bridget shook her head at Dean, her and Sam on the same side. "I swear it, Dean. When we first saw that painting it didn't look like this." She pointed at the photo copy. "He was looking at his daughter."

"She's right, man," Sam nodded in agreement. "I'm sure of it and I saw the painting earlier. Dad was lookin' down. In this he's lookin' out. The painting has changed, Dean."

"All right, so, you guys think Daddy Dearest is trapped in the painting? He's handin' out Columbian neckties like he did his family?" Dean asked, sitting on across from them at the table.

"Yeah, it seems like it," Sam said. "But if his bones are already dusted, then how are we gonna get him?"

Dean looked down at the photo. "All right, well, if Isaiah's position changed, maybe some other things in the painting changed as well. It could give us some clues."

"What, like a _Da Vinci Code_ deal?" Bridget asked.

"I don't know," Dean scratched the back of his head. "I'm still waitin' on the movie. Anyway, we gotta go back in and see the painting. Which is a good thing because you can get some more time to crush on your girlfriend."

Dean moved from the chair while Bridget focused on the table, reminding herself she wasn't jealous or mad, not at all.

"Dude, enough already?" Sam growled.

"What?" Dean asked innocently.

"'What', ever since we got here, you've been tryin' to pimp me out to Sarah. Just back off, all right? I'm not interested in her."

"I'm not talkin' about marriage, Sam," Dean argued.

"What do you care if I hook up with her?" he asked and Bridget wanted to walk outside but that would be too evident.

"I mean, I think this Sarah girl is good for you. She's nice, she's sweet, she's hot, she's normal and untainted by our freakin' world. Wouldn't hurt you to have some fun," Dean explained and Bridget did her best not to wince and keep a poker face.

"Dean's right," Bridget forced herself to say, tracing the marks in the table. "She'd be good for you."

Sam looked at her in surprise but she refused to meet his eyes, she kept her eyes on the research papers in front of her.

"See," Dean said and leaned back on the bed. "Well, we still gotta see the painting, which means you still gotta call Sarah."

Sam nodded, glancing once more at Bridget who finally stood up and walked over to the bed, lying across it and grabbing her sketch book from her bag, sketching things out next to Dean. She didn't want to watch Sam call Sarah, didn't want to hear it. She focused deeply on the drawing in front of her from her dream. The gun she was currently drawing out in detail, wondering where it would come in to play. She didn't have to wait long. Apparently the painting was sold yesterday…meaning a possible body or two.

* * *

They arrived at the mansion in a hurry and found they weren't alone. Bridget's favorite person was there, waiting by her car. Sarah walked up to them as they walked towards the mansion.

"Sam, what's happening?" she asked.

"I told you, you shouldn't have come," he said as they hurried up the steps.

"Hello?" Bridget knocked. "Anyone home?"

"You said Evelyn might be in danger," Sarah said. "What kind of danger?"

"Hard to explain," Bridget answered and studied the door. "Dean, can you knock it?"

"No, not this sucker. Can you ?" he was referring to her telekinetic abilities. She stared at it a moment. It was a heavy door, least five inches thick with reinforced steel hinges. She'd have to be super pissed to pull that off.

"No," she looked at the lock."But we can pick this."

Dean reached into his pocket and took out his little kit, going to work on the lock.

Sarah stared in amazement. "What are you guys? Burglars?"

"Trick of the trade," mumbled Bridget.

"I wish it was that simple," Sam said. Dean got the lock and pushed the door open. Sam warned her again. "Look, you should really wait in the car, it's for your own good."

"The hell I will, Evelyn is my friend," she said sternly.

Bridget walked in, "More reason you should wait outside."

"You get to go, so do I," she followed behind Bridget.

"I'm already tainted," she snorted. "You've got a chance."

"For what?"

She shook her head with a sigh, thinking of what she'd seen over the years. What she saw that night four years ago that forever changed her. "Nothing…"

"Evelyn," Sarah called out as they entered the living room. Evelyn was sitting in a cushioned chair by the fireplace, the painting on the mantel above it. Isaiah was looking down at his daughter.

"Evelyn?" Sarah tried again. "It's Sarah Blake. Are you all right?" She put her hand on the woman's shoulder before any of them could stop her.

"Sarah, don't Sarah!" Sam shouted too late. Evelyn's head tilted back, revealing her slashed throat.

Sam was quick to grab the screaming girl, removing her from the room. Bridget glanced at the painting and patted Dean's shoulder. "Check it out…" Isaiah was now staring straight ahead.

"Wasn't he…" Dean pointed to the right, a bit startled by it.

"Yeah."

He shivered, "This is just too creepy."

"We better leave here, get back to the hotel."

"I agree…"

After explaining to Sarah that she'd have to tell the cops she was there on her own and they'd have to leave her, they went back to the hotel. Sam kept pacing the floor. Bridget glanced up from her sketch book. "Can you stop doing that? You're making a trench."

"I'm worried about her."

"How nauseatingly sweet of you," she mumbled.

He paused to give her a stern look. "We had to leave her thereafter she saw her friends throat slit."

Bridget went back to shading, "Yup, and we told her more than once to wait outside. That she still had a chance to not be tainted by this crap. She made her choice, now she gets to deal with it."

Sam opened his mouth to argue further but there was a knock at the door and Sarah came busting into the room.

"Hey," Sam said to her. "You all right?"

Bridget snorted.

"No, actually," Sarah said angrily. "I just lied to the cops and told them I went to Evelyn's alone and found her like that."

"We appreciate that," Bridget said.

"Yeah, thank you," Sam said.

"Don't thank me. I'm about to call 'em back if you don't tell me what the hell is going on. Who's killing these people?"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look, Bridget kept drawing, lying across the bed, chin in hand.

"What," Sam sighed.

"What?" She asked confused.

"He means it's not a who, Sarah, it's a what's killing them," she capped her pen and sat up on the bed. "We all saw the painting move."

"No, no," she shook her head. "I was seeing things. It's impossible."

"Yeah, well, welcome to our world," Dean said.

"We should start making t-shirt or buttons for this sort of thing," she told Dean.

"Tell me 'bout it."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Sarah, I know this sounds crazy, but we think that that painting is haunted."

"You're joking," she said in fear. The three of them stayed silent. "You're not joking…God, the guys I go out with…"

Bridget bit her lip, twirling the pen in her hand. The cup next to Dean shook a little and he grabbed it, giving her a wide eyed look. She mouthed 'sorry'.

Sam hadn't noticed, "Sarah, think about it – Evelyn, the Telescas. They both had the painting, and there have been others before that. Wherever this thing goes, people die, and we're just tryin' to stop it. And that's the truth."

Sarah let out a sigh, "Well, then, I guess you better show me. I'm coming with you."

"What?" Sam exclaimed. "No. Sarah, no, you should just go home. This stuff can get dangerous, and – and I don't want you getting hurt."

"Look," she said sternly, eyes dead set. "You guys are probably crazy, but if you're right about this – well, me and my dad sold the painting, we might have got those people killed. I'm not saying I'm not scared, 'cause I am scared as hell, but I'm not gonna run and hide, either…so are we going or what?" she asked and left the room.

"Sam," Dean said waited for his brother to turn to him and pointed at the door. "Marry that girl."

Bridget gritted her teeth, but said nothing. There was a definite attraction between the two, even she had to admit it. She tried to not be jealous, but it was getting harder and harder to do when she knew she couldn't compete with Sarah.

* * *

For the second time that day, Bridget found herself at the mansion with not only Sam and Dean but the lovely Sarah as well. Bridget and Dean were working on the front door. "Uh, isn't this a crime scene?" Sarah asked.

Dean shrugged, "Well, you already lied to the cops. What's another infraction?" he broke the crime seal tape and undid the first lock. The door wouldn't budge. "Dammit, they locked the second one. I can't break into this one…" he looked at Bridget. "Think you can manage it…"

"Not sure," she said and studied the lock. She shook her hands out and put a hand on the door, staring at the second lock. Her mind wandered back to when they had been inside earlier. She had seen the door. Seen the top lock. She twisted at it in the memory, turning it to the left. A click startled her and she tried to the door knob, pushing it open with a grin. "Oh, I am good."

"How'd- how'd you do that?" Sarah asked, dumbfounded.

"Better not to ask," said Dean and moved in behind Bridget.

Back in the living room, Sam removed the painting from the wall, setting it up against a chair. He and Bridget began to study it while Dean had the photo copy.

Sarah looked around worried. "Aren't you afraid that it's gonna, you know, kill us?"

"No," said Sam. "It seems to do its thing at night. I think we're all right in the daylight."

"Jared, check it out," Dean said suddenly.

Bridget frowned, turning to look at Dean. "Jared? Who the hell is Jared?"

"What? I didn't say Jared?" Dean tried to cover.

"Yeah, you did. You said 'Jared'," said Sam.

A smile crept over Bridget, "So, uh, who's Jared, Dean?"

"I meant to say Sam," he growled. "Drop it."

"Oh, not for awhile," she promised and took the photo from him.

Dean pointed at the razor. "Look at the razor – it's closed in this one, but it's open in that one."

"What are you guys looking for?" Sarah asked.

"Well, if the spirit's changing aspects of the painting, maybe it's doing so for a reason," explained Dean.

"Hey, look at this –the painting _in_ the painting," Bridget pointed at the photocopy where behind Isaiah was standing there was a painting of mountains behind him. In the real painting, it's a building.

"Looks like a crypt or a mausoleum or something," Dean said. He picked up a crystal ashtray from the table and flipped it over on the painting. "It says Merchant."

"Yay, field trip to the cemetery," Bridget said already heading for the door. She was anything but happy when she had to share the back seat with Sarah though and the car ride seemed longer than ten minutes. She felt she looked a little too eager when she jumped out of the car, especially since Dean hadn't finished parking it yet.

"So, this is what you guys do for a living?" Sarah asked as they walked past crypt after creep ass crypt.

"No exactly, we don't get paid," Sam told her.

"No we hustle pool for that," Bridget added and Dean stopped pointing at a building.

"Found it."

The lock was easier to pick on this one and they walked in, past cob webs and stale air. Lining the walls were urns and a glass case preserving a doll. Sarah studied the glass doll. "Okay, that right there is the creepiest thing I've ever seen."

Bridget smiled, starting to like her a bit. Seeing a person's throat slit or a moving painting didn't creep her out as much as the damn doll. She felt the same about asylums.

"It was sort of tradition at the time," Sam said. "Whenever a child died, sometimes they'd preserve the kid's favorite toy in a glass case right next to the headstone or crypt."

Bridget snorted, "They'd have a hard time fitting Dean's Impala in here or your library."

"You notice anything strange here?" asked Dean, looking at the urns.

"Uhh, where do I start?" Sarah asked.

"No, that's not what I mean. Look at the urns."

"Yeah, there's only four," Bridget noted.

"Yeah, Mom and the three kids. Daddy Dearest isn't here," Dean said.

"So, where is he?" Sam asked the million dollar question.

* * *

That was where Dean and his suaveness at lying came in. Bridget was in no dress code to go in with him and fake being a cop to get a death certificate looked at. She was stuck waiting outside with Sam and Sarah. She sat on the hood of the car, the other end from them, with her iPod on and drawing in her sketch book. But her iPod wasn't on max volume, she could still hear them though she pretended otherwise.

Sam was explaining to her how Dean was able to even get the certificate or talk to the cops. Then he told her she had an eyelash on her face…and volunteered to get it for her. Her eyes focused above her sketch book, at a crack on the asphalt. She glanced over her shoulder to see him wipe it from her cheek gently as they stared at each other in a way that reminded her of Will. She looked back at the crack in front of her, trying to block them out but hearing every word of the conversation as Sarah asked if there was something between the two of them or she was delusional.

Bridget prayed for delusional, but felt the crushing blow when he said she wasn't delusional. The crack in front of her grew more. Then Sam told her he liked her but couldn't be with her because people around him get hurt, just like she was hurting now. The crack suddenly sealed together in the ground and she was thankful Dean came out before she ripped the street apart.

"Am I interrupting something?"

Bridget removed her headphones and shut her sketch book. "Not that I know of. Apparently there was never anything to interrupt."

Sam glanced at her and the sorry look in his eyes made her look away, "So, what'd you get?"

"Pay dirt," he smiled. "Apparently, the surviving relatives of the Merchant family were so ashamed of Isaiah that they didn't want him interred with the rest of the family. So, they handed him over to the county. They county gave him a pauper's burial – economy style. Turns out he wasn't cremated, he was buried in a pine box.

"So, there _are_ bones to burn?" Sam asked.

"Tell me you know where they are so we can get the hell out of this place," Bridget said, not caring if she sounded angry or if it hurt Sam, he hurt her after all. Pay back was a bitch.

Bridget grumbled while digging the grave up with Sam and Dean while Sarah held the flash light. Sam crawled out first standing next to her. "You guys seem uncomfortable comfortable with this."

"Yeah, well, this isn't exactly the first grave we've dug. Still think I'm a catch?" Sam smiled.

"Speak for yourself," Bridget shouted from the hole, more or less to interrupt the conversation.

"I think I got somethin'," Dean said and broke through the coffin to reveal the bones.

"Sweet, I'm gettin' out of this damn hole," she put her hands on the side and dug her boots into the dirt, using the grass to claw out of. Sam bent down and held his hand out to her. She glared at it, too low for Sam to see her look. She ignored his hand and crawled out. He put his hand on her arm to help her up and she jerked away, getting up on her own and turning around to give Dean a hand.

She grabbed her bag and handed him the rock salt and gasoline then removed the pack of matches from her boot.

"You've been a pain in the ass, Isaiah," Dean lit the match. "Good riddance," he dropped it watching the grave catch fire. They all sighed watching it, but Bridget didn't feel that relief. It wasn't over, something wasn't right.

"Maybe we should toast the painting again or bury it."

"Why?" Dean asked as they headed back to the car.

"Just a feeling I got, okay?"

He shrugged, "All right."

They got back to the mansion and Bridget got out of the car, Sam following her and so was Sarah. "I thought it was harmless now."

"Better safe than sorry," Bridget said.

"I wanna come with you two."

"You sure?" Sam asked and Bridget locked her jaw. She was done. She had lost. No big deal.

"Yeah."

"I'll just wait here," Dean shouted from the car. "You kids have fun."

They entered the living room and the three froze staring at the painting…the daughter was missing.

"What the hell…" Bridget trailed off, looking around the room.

"Uh, Bridge? Sam? I'm no expert at this ghost stuff…but is the painting supposed to look like that? Where's the little girl?"

"I got a better question," Bridget said pointing at the table in the painting. "Where's the razor?"

They heard a little girl laughing from somewhere in the house and the front door slammed shut.

"Oh, that's not good," said Bridget and she and Sam ran for the door. They heard Dean on the other side.

Bridget's cell rang and she answered it, it was Dean. "Hey, you guys all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, we're okay."

"Tell me you slammed the front door?"

"I wish, but it was the little girl."

"The girl? What girl?" he asked.

"Yeah, she's out of the painting. It wasn't Isaiah, it was her."

"Wasn't the dad lookin' down at her? Maybe he was tryin' to warn 'em."

"Can we recap later? Get us out of here because I can't get the damn door to budge or a window to shake.

"Well, I'm tryin' to pick the lock but it won't open and it's too heavy to kick in."

"Dammit, Dean. Do something," she growled.

"Well, you're all gonna have to hold on a minute while I figure somethin' out. Get some salt and iron." He clicked the phone off and Bridget put it back in her pocket.

"He's thinking of a plan," she told Sam.

"Great," he rolled his eyes. "We need salt or iron."

"Exactly what he said," Bridget said and they started searching the house.

Bridget had torn the kitchen apart in frustration and reentered the living room. "What the hell kind of house doesn't have salt? Low sodium freaks?"

"You find any iron?" Sam asked Sarah.

"No, what's it for?"

"Iron repels evil spirits, but it's gotta be pure," he said and answered his phone as Dean called. "Yeah?"

"I'm still workin' on the damn lock. Any luck with iron and salt?"

"No, not really. Hang on a second," he looked at Bridget and Sarah. "Look under the chairs, sometimes the seats…" he trailed off as the rest of the doors in the house slammed shut. Papers flew across the room and the little girl appeared her doll in one hand and the razor in the other.

"Sam?" Sarah said in disbelief stepping closer to him. "This is just so wrong."

"Welcome to our life," Bridget said and started backing away.

Sam backed into a set of fireplace pokers and grabbed one, swinging it at the girl. She dissolved into smoke.

"Sammy, you okay?" they heard Dean from Sam's phone.

"For right now," he said, phone on speaker.

"How we gonna waste her?" Dean asked.

"She's already cremated," Bridget reminded him.

"Then how's she still around?"

"There must be somethin'?" Sam said.

"Sam, wait we used to have the antique doll collection at the auction house," Sarah informed him.

"Well, that's fascinating, Sarah, but how's the help us?" Sam asked.

"Well, back then, they used to make dolls in the kid's image. I mean, everything, they would use the kid's real hair."

"Dean? Did you hear that? You gotta burn the doll," Sam said.

"I'm on it," he said and hung up. The lights flickered off and Bridget found herself standing close to Sam. "Not good."

Suddenly the desk moved across the room. Bridget moved out of the way at the right second but Sam got pinned to the ground.

"Sam!" she scrambled to her feet, helping Sarah move it. "Come on, help us out here."

"I'm trying!" the desk wouldn't budge and now the little girl was standing there a smile on her face.

"Oh, this is really not good," Bridget mumbled and was flown backwards into the wall. She moved back onto her hands and knees as Sarah was thrown into the wall opposite her, the little girl advancing on her. She looked at where Sam was still pinned, at Sarah scared and felt her anger bubble over from holding it in so long. "All right…enough of this."

Her eyes focused on the desk and it moved backwards, off Sam causing a bit of a headache on her part. She focused on Sarah and jerked her out of the way just as the razor came down and the little girl burst into flames. Her head pounded from the effort it took and she realized she'd really have to work on honing this particular skill to move bigger objects more easily.

A hand was on her arm and this time she let Sam help her stand up. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, head throbbing. She touched his arm, "Go help Sarah. I'm gonna go outside, I don't like this house much anymore."

Her cell phone buzzed and she answered it, "Bridge, you good?"

She looked across at Sam helping Sarah stand, the two sharing a look. "Nothing that won't heal."

* * *

Bridget stood with Sam and Sarah inside the auction house that morning and Dean held out a paper in his hand he scrambled from records. "This was archived in the county records. The Merchants adopted daughter, Melanie. Know why she was up for adoption? 'Cause her real family was murdered in their beds."

"Sweet little girl," Bridget said.

"She killed them?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, who'd suspect her, a sweet little girl? So, then she kills Isaiah and his family, the old man takes the blame – spirit's been tryin' to warn people ever since."

Some workers came up to Sarah then with the Merchant painting. "Where would you like this to go?"

"Take it out back and burn it," she instructed, the workers shrugged and did so. "So, why'd the girl do it?"

"Killin' others, killin' herself – some people are just born tortured. So when they die, their spirits are dark," Sam explained.

"Maybe, I don't really care," Bridget said. "It's over, we move on."

"I guess this means you're leaving," she said eyeing Sam.

Dean put a hand on Bridget's arm. "We'll go wait by the car. See ya, Sarah," he dragged Bridget with him who glanced one last time at Sam, his eyes met hers and she gave him an encouraging smile then looked away before he could see it darken.

"Hopefully he gets the girl," Dean sighed and got in the driver's seat.

Bridget leaned against the back of the car, waiting for Sam and examining her nails. He was in there with Sarah and she wasn't mad…jealous, but not mad. After all Sarah was the right kind of girl. She was beautiful and smart and funny, but most of all, she was normal and Sam deserved normal. She could never give that to him. She was put into this and no matter how hard she tried it would never leave her, she'd always be tainted. Life would never be normal, people she fell in love with would die, she was sure of it and she couldn't handle losing someone as much as she loved Will. Not again. She was okay with that, with being single forever, with having to do this on her own, with Sam loving someone else. She swallowed the lump in her throat, it hurt she admitted that. But it was better this way, it would hurt less with time.

She heard the front door open and heard footsteps, Sam probably. She didn't bother to look up from inspecting her nails or look at him, she couldn't begin to, not with him being alone with Sarah, more than likely having kissed her. She didn't look up until a hand slid into hers and pulled her away from the car. With a frown she looked up at Sam, a puzzled look on her face at the smile he had.

"It's you," he said.

She frowned deeper, "What?"

"It's you, Bridge. You're the one who understands me, who can handle this life style, who can put up with my family, not to mention handle yourself physically and mentally. You're the one I'd choose."

"I don't…," she shook her head still foggy and trying to take this in. "Sarah's normal…I'm not…I'm trouble…I can't give that to you, I can't be that, I can't-."

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, stopping her from speaking any further. She relaxed into it, hands going around his back. He pressed his forehead to hers. "It's you, Bridge…just you."

She smiled, "I've been hoping you would say that for a long time…but…we're cursed."

He smiled back, "I think two curses cancel each other out…I'd risk it for you." He kissed her again more passionately.

Dean watched from the car with a smile. "I put up with her for nearly four years and Sam gets the girl…bout damn time those two got this over with." He honked his horn. "Hey lovebirds! Can we go now?"

Bridget pulled away, keeping her hand in his until she got into the backseat. She stayed near Sam then. "You two are _so_ getting your own room. I don't wanna hear or see any of it…unless I'm seeing Bridge naked, then I can handle it."

She smacked him upside the head, "Perve."

"Hey, you do realize you have to share a bed with me for another five days, right?"

"Don't remind me."

"Oh, I'm gonna remind you as much as I can," he gloated.

"You do know I will kiss her in front of you, enough to make you gag," Sam warned him.

"Do your worst," Dean challenged.

Sam shrugged and turned in the seat. Bridget was taken a back as he kissed her, not used to him initiating it so willingly especially in front of someone. She leaned forward over the seat, deepening the kiss and giggled, never breaking away, as he put his other arm around her waist, pulling her into the front seat with him. She felt Dean fidget as her foot brushed his leg, but paid no mind otherwise to him. Sam pulled her into his lap, her legs going on either side of his waist, straddling him, still kissing. She was afraid if this kept up, her shirt would be off and she'd undo Sam's pants.

"Okay! Okay! Knock it off! You win, alright, just spare me," Dean gave in and Bridget moved to sit in the middle between the two, grinning victoriously with Sam.

"What was that?" Sam asked. "I what?"

"You win," Dean grumbled. "Although…that was kinda hot."

Bridget smacked his arm, glad to be back on the road. With Sam's arm around her she was finally where she wanted to be. She glanced at Dean, remembering that kiss outside the hotel room…she hoped she was where she wanted to be. That had been a bet after all….right?


	14. Dead Mans Blood

**DISCLAIMER: Another reveal to Bridget in this one. I still don't own them :)**

**S1 EP20 DEAD MANS BLOOD**

Bridget continued drawing in her sketch book, putting the last details to the crashed car in her drawing. She couldn't tell what type of car it was, but she knew a semi truck smashed right into the poor thing. She had that picture four times in the last two weeks since leaving New York and having the dream of the gun lying on the table, a gun she'd never seen before in her life. Something told her she would soon though. Sam was sitting next to her, pulling up articles on his computer while Dean researched in the local newspapers.

He sighed, putting the paper down, "All right, dude. Not a decent land in all of Nebraska. What do you got?"

"Well, I've been scanning the West Coast, nothing much yet. Except in Manning, Colorado – a local man by the name of Daniel Elkins was found mailed in his home."

Dean frowned at Elkins and Bridget froze at Manning, Colorado. They'd have to pass through Denver to get there. Dean reached for his dad's journal, "Elkins? I know that name."

"Doesn't ring a bell," Sam shook his head. "It sounds like the police don't know what to think. At first, they said it was some sort of bear attack, and now, they found sign of robbery."

"Mm hmm," mumbled Dean, scanning through. He paused on a page turning it for Sam and Bridget to see. "Here. Check it out." There was the name D. Elkins with a number next to it.

"You think it's the same Elkins?" Sam asked.

"It's a Colorado area code."

"Looks like we're going to Colorado."

Bridget closed her eyes a moment touching her necklace. She'd be going back to the state she lived in, past the city where her family lived and died.

* * *

It was a two day drive to get to Denver and it was still bright out, not far past four. They'd be in Manning by nightfall. She twisted the chain back and forth, not bothering to react to the fact she'd been in New York two weeks ago and saw Will's grave, but now she was in Denver, where her brother was buried. Back to the start of it all just as Sam and Dean had been a couple months before when they investigated their old house. Except hers wasn't haunted, Missouri had guaranteed that.

She glanced up and saw the street quickly approaching, almost losing it in the mixture of thoughts. "Stop the car!" Bridget shouted suddenly and Dean hit the brakes, twisting around to find out what the hell she was yelling about. Her eyes were glued out the window as she stared at an open house sign, balloons decorating a lawn down that street. The blood drained from her face and her heart skipped a beat. It was her house, it was for sale…she'd be able to go inside it.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Go down this street," she directed pointing.

"Bridge -."

"Just do it, please," she said.

With a shrug to Sam he turned the car down the street and stopped across the street from the open house. Bridget was already out of the Impala walking up to the house and standing on the sidewalk staring at it. Sam looked at the house then at her, "Bridget…is this…"

She nodded, "This is my home…was my home…"

Dean stayed silent, not sure of what to say.

"I never came back after they stopped the fire…I couldn't…after the funerals I up and left, never looked back. I haven't been here in years…not since it happened…"

"Come on," Dean tugged on her hand. "We should go."

"No," she shook her head and took a deep breath. "I want to go in."

"You don't have to."

"Yes, I do…" Bridget nodded. "I need to do this."

She walked across the lawn and up the stairs, and walked in through the front door. Everything was built the same layout wise. The kitchen was to her left, she was in the living room. The dining room was to the right through the foyer. The den was on the other side of the kitchen with the breakfast bar. The only difference was the walls were painted a light blue instead of egg shell white and the floor was made of wood instead of dark blue carpet. She knew the basement door was down the small hall just a bit to the right where the staircase led up to the hall and rooms above.

A woman wearing pointy glasses came up to them in her sleek business suit. "Hello, I'm Abigail Darlin. Are you interested in purchasing a home?"

"Actually," Bridget managed to speak. "I used to live here."

"Really? I know the Johnson's. I don't recall ever seeing you," she said with a bit of an attitude.

She shook her head, "No…_I_ lived here before them. I was just in the neighborhood…thought I'd look at it one more time."

"Before the Johnson's, that would mean…" she trailed off looking at Bridget an O forming on her mouth as her hand covered it, face paling. "I apologize. I didn't know…umm…take your time…it was rebuilt to the original layout."

"I can see that," she walked past her and down the small hall, opening the door on her left. It was a bedroom…her old bedroom she'd stay in when she was home from school with the window Will used to go in and out of. She could almost see him, climbing through, sideways grin on his face and her telling him he could use the front door, but where was the fun in that he'd say. With a sad smile she traced the window. This room hadn't been destroyed at all by the fire.

"Was this your room?" Dean asked, looking around. It even had its own bathroom.

"Yeah," she tapped the window. "I didn't grow up here but it was the house my brother bought and built on…our first real home…nothing's really changed." She walked out towards the staircase. She stared up it, at the dark hall above. A hand slid into hers and she looked up at Sam. He looked up the staircase. She kept her eyes on the living room, seeing it like a movie. She and Will had been sitting in there…laughing, snuggled on the couch waiting for Derek…until she heard him yell. Bridget walked up the stairs. She touched a door to her right, her brother's and Lydia's room. It was the room straight ahead that haunted her as she got closer. She could see her brother yelling at her to run, holding his son, the flames swallowing the room, the ceiling above her caving down just as his caved down on him, those yellow eyes in the background, fading away.

With a deep breath she stepped in the room, now a bedroom instead of a nursery. She looked up at the ceiling where Lydia had been, her family had died in here. She ran a hand over her face, letting the ghostly images go, hoping they'd no longer haunt her dreams.

"Bridge?" Dean said her name carefully.

"I'm okay," she said, rubbing the back of her neck. "I'm okay."

"This is the room I take it."

"This is where my brother and my nephew and my sister-in-law died…" she pointed out the door. "I was standing at the top of the stairs and I saw it just fall on them…it's playing in my head like a bad movie…I can see it all…him yelling at me…those yellow eyes fading away, the fire blazing hot, Will tugging on my arm…" she let out a breath and touched her necklace chain.

"It's okay," Sam squeezed her hand and just like that the memory faded back into her, not as strong as it used to be, the pain was there but the memory resided.

"It's over…at least this part of it is…let's go," she said.

They managed to get out of the house without Abigail bugging them again. Bridget froze on the front lawn halfway down the walkway, that cold dread feeling in her gut as she slowly turned and looked just to her right. Without pause she fell to her knees and touched the grass then looked over her shoulder at the streetlamp twenty yard away…where Meg had stood and killed him. She saw it…felt the choking sensation and burning from the smoke, heard Will shout her name and heard the blast of the gun. She could see the blood running over her hands, sticky and hot though his skin was getting so cold and so pale…and she saw those eyes…Meg's eyes gleaming and fading into shadow. She'd kill the bitch next time she encountered her, she was determined.

"Bridget…it's okay…" she heard Sam say and looked up into his eyes. He was crouched down next to her, examining the grass. She could tell he knew what this place was.

"This was where I had the best times of my life and she took it all away from me and made it the worst, made this the place where my life ended," she ran her fingers over the grass.

"It's not over," Sam took her hand and helped her stand up.

She looked at him then at Dean waiting at the Impala, knew she'd see John again soon. That was where her new life had begun five years ago and still forged on today. She squeezed his fingers, "No, this one is just starting…let's get this case goin', shall we?"

* * *

They were in Manning by nightfall and drove straight to D. Elkin's house. Picking the lock was easy and there certainly was a mess inside as they swung their flashlights around the ransacked place.

"Looks like the made didn't come today," Dean said.

Sam crouched down by the door, "Hey, there's salt over here – right inside the door."

"You mean, like, protection- against – demons salt, or, uh, "oops, I spilled the popcorn" salt?"

"It's clearly a ring," Sam noted and stood back up. "You think this Elkins was a player?"

"Definitely," Bridget said, thumbing through Elkin's journal. The brothers came up next to her, looking at the pages as she turned them.

"That looks a hell of a lot like Dad's," Sam said.

"Yeah, except his dates back to the sixties," Bridget pointed out.

"Whatever attacked him, it looks like there was more than one," Sam said as he continued to look around the house.

"Looks like he put up one hell of a fight, too," Dean said and knelt down, grabbing a revolver box that was empty. There were several scratches carved into the wooden floor right beneath it.

"You have something?" Bridget asked, flashing the light his way. Her necklace briefly got warmer but not in the warning way and she frowned looking out the window but saw nothing in the darkness…still she felt something.

"I don't know, just some scratches in the floor."

"Death throes, maybe?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, maybe," Dean shrugged and grabbed a pieces of paper and a pencil from the desk. He put the paper over the marks and moved the pencil over it to trace them. "Or maybe a message." He held the paper up to the other two. "Look familiar?"

"Three letters, six digits – the location and combination of a post office. It's a mail drop," Bridget pieced together, ignoring the feeling she had moments ago.

"That's just the way Dad does it," Dean said and stood up.

"Looks like another car trip," she said and they headed out of the wrecked house.

* * *

At the post office, Bridget had waited in the car while Sam and Dean got the letter. It just seemed a little too personal for her to butt into, more of a family deal than hers. They were back in the car minutes later and she leaned over the seat to see what they had. It was a letter with the letters "J.W." addressed to it.

"J.W.," she read. "Is that for your dad?"

"I don't know," Dean shook his head. "Maybe we should open it."

Before either of them could move there was a knock on the window causing the three to jump and then stare in shock as John Winchester slid into the backseat of the car with Bridget. She put a hand on her chest, "Don't go sneaking up on us like that, sheesh. Get yourself killed that way."

"Sorry to startle you Bridget," he mumbled and apology.

"Dad, what are you doing here?" Sam asked in shock. They hadn't seen him in well over a month and here he was in the backseat out of nowhere."Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Look, I read the news about Daniel. I got here as fast as I could. I saw you three up at his place."

"Thought I sensed something," Bridget said under her breath, touching her necklace.

"Why didn't you come in, Dad?" Sam asked.

"You know why – because I had to make sure you weren't being followed, by anyone, or anything," he looked at Dean. "Nice job covering your tracks, by the way."

He shrugged proudly, "Yeah, well, we learn from the best."

"Wait, so, you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?" Sam asked again.

A sad look crossed John's face, "Yeah. He was…he was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting."

"You never mentioned him."

"We had, uh…we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years," he pointed at the letter Sam held. "I should look at that." Sam handed it to him and John opened it, eyes scanning the page. "'If you're reading this, I'm already dead.' That son of a bitch."

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"He had it the whole time," he growled.

"Had what, Dad?" Sam asked.

"When you searched his place, did you see a gun? An antique – a Colt revolver, did you see it?" he asked.

"Uh, there was an old case, but it was empty."

"The Colt?" Bridget frowned and then it suddenly dawned on and she grabbed her shoulder bag, pulling out her sketch book. She reached across the front seat and grabbed the flash light from Sam. She turned to the page she had drawn on a couple days ago and tucked her hair behind her ear, handing the sketch book to John and switching on the flash light. "Is that the Colt?"

John looked at the drawing and she saw the look on his face that told her it was, "Where did you see it?"

"In my picture dreams, psychic part of me, we mentioned it awhile ago. But in the short version, anything I see in pictures happens. So, apparently, we find this gun. I've drawn it about three times now." She turned the pages so he could see.

"Quite a gift you got there, Bridge, in more ways than one."

"Thank you."

John cursed despite the premonition, "They have it."

"You mean, whatever killed Elkins?"

"We've got to pick up the trail," he said and handed Bridget her book back, getting out of the car.

"Wait," Sam leaned out the window. "You want us to come with you?"

"That's why I left the door opened for Bridget," he said point blank. "If Elkins was tellin' the truth, we've got to find this gun."

"The gun? Why?"

"Because it's important, that's why," he said with a tone that even caused Bridget to retreat back into the car an inch.

"Dad, we don't even know what these things _are_ yet."

"They were what Elkins killed best – vampires," he said simply.

Dean seemed stunned. "Vampires? I thought there was no such thing."

Bridget rolled her eyes, "Of _all_ the things we've hunted you have a hard time believing in _vampires."_

"You never mentioned them," Sam said.

"I thought they were extinct. I thought Elkins had wiped them out…I was wrong…"

Bridget nodded, "We'll help you."

"Good…let's get a hotel, get some sleep while you can."

* * *

They got a two bedroom hotel, John stating he wasn't going to bother with sleeping, that he had slept during the day though to Bridget she swore he hadn't slept in days by the look of him. She didn't argue. She just stripped off her boots, dumping her hand bag next to the bed. She felt the bed move on the other side of her and laid back, curling up next to Sam. His arm instinctively went around her, pulling her closer and dozing off within minutes. Both had been more tired than they'd admit.

John had watched the spectacle with a muse of shock until they fell asleep then gestured at them as Dean yawned on the other bed. "When did that happen?"

"Uhh, 'bout two weeks officially, but they've been foolin' around for months," he mumbled, eyes drifting closed.

"Really? Sam and Bridget…never would have thought that…I always thought…" he trailed off, glancing slightly at Dean who was already dozing. He turned on the police scanner and sat back in the cushioned chair, watching his children and listening for the call.

It didn't take more than two hours for a call to come over the radio and Bridget finding herself being pulled from her sleep by John calling her name along with Sam and Dean's. She lifted her head from Sam's chest, brushing the hair from her face.

"What's goin on?" she yawned.

"Picked up a police call," John said, already standing, ready to head out the door.

"What happened?" Sam against, stretching and standing to his feet.

"A couple called 911. They found a body in the street. Cops got there, everyone was missing. It's vampires," he said.

"How do you know?" Sam questioned of course as Bridget picked up her shoulder bag.

"Just follow me, okay?" he said and left the room.

Dean chuckled, "Vampires – gets funnier every time I hear it."

* * *

Sam, Dean and Bridget stood waiting by the car while John went over to talk to the police, ordering them to stay put. Bridget and Dean shrugged, staying without a problem to the contrary. It didn't set with Sam though.

"I don't see why we couldn't have gone over with him," Sam said.

Bridget rolled her eyes along with Dean, "Oh, don't tell me it's already starting."

"What's starting?" Sam asked densely as John walked back over to them.

"What do you got?" Bridget asked him when he was in close enough range.

"It was them, all right. Looks like they're heading west. We're gonna have to double back to get to a detour."

"How can you be sure?" Sam asked.

"Sam…" Dean said in a warning tone.

"I just wanna know we're goin the right way."

"We are," John promised.

"How do you know?"

John took a fang out of his pocket, "I found this."

Dean took it from him, "A vampire fang."

"No fangs – teeth. The second set descends when they attack," he looked at Sam. "Anymore questions?" Sam was silent and John went on. "All right, let's get out of here, we're losin' daylight. Hey, Dean, why don't you touch up your car before you get rust? I wouldn't have given the damn thing to you if I thought you were gonna ruin it." He got in his truck.

Sam laughed and Bridget giggled but Dean glared.

* * *

For once Bridget was allowed to drive the car while Dean sat in the middle and Sam in the passenger seat. She loved the feel of being in control of so much power, feeling the engine purr as she stepped on the gas, it was enough to make her grin, even with Dean reading some of the research they had.

"Vampires nest in groups of eight or ten. Smaller packs are sent out to hunt for food. Victims are taken to the nest, where the pack keeps them alive, bleeding them for days or weeks. I wonder if that's what happened to the couple that called 911."

"That's probably what Dad's thinking. Of course, it would be nice if he just told us what he thinks," Sam said.

"So it _is_ starting," Bridget said and Dean nodded.

"What?" Sam asked,

"Sam, we've been lookin' for Dad all year. Now we're not with him for more than a couple hours and there's static already?" Dean asked.

"No, look, I'm happy he's okay, all right? And I'm happy that we're all workin' together again."

"Good, try to keep it that way," Bridget told him.

"It's just that he treats us all like we're children."

"Oh God," Dean sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

"He barks orders at us, Dean, even at Bridget. He expects us to follow him without question. He keeps us on some crap need-to-know deal."

"He does that for a reason," said Dean.

"What reason?" Sam asked.

"Our job! There's no time to argue, there's no margin for error, all right, it's just the way the old man runs-."

Sam cut him off, "Yeah, well, maybe that worked when we were kids, but not anymore, all right? Not after everything you and I and even Bridget have been through. I mean, are you tellin' me you're both cool with just falling into line and letting him run the whole show?"

"If that's what it takes," Dean said.

Bridget nodded, "I agree. He's been doing it for a lot longer and who am I to argue with the only male adult figure I have left in my life."

That seemed to shut Sam up and he sunk back into his seat staring out the window. Bridget pressed on the gas, trying to make herself feel happy again.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Dean's cell rang breaking the tension of silence around them. "Yeah, Dad…all right…got it," he hung up the ten second phone call and looked at Bridget. "Pull off at the next exit."

"Okay," she nodded, putting the blinker on.

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Because Dad thinks we've got the vampire's trail."

"How?" Sam asked.

"Jesus, Sam, even you're questioning annoys me sometimes," Bridget growled, running her fingers through her hair. "All you ever ask is why and how. We don't know the answer. We just do it."

Sam grabbed Dean's cell phone hitting redial on it. Bridget and Dean shook their heads at the argument. "Pull over, Dad. We need to talk. Now!"

He handed Dean the phone back as John pulled the truck over and Bridget pulled the Impala over. Sam was out of the car before she had it in park.

"Oh crap, here we go," Dean said to Bridget and both scrambled out of the driver's side. "SAM!"

"We need to talk," he was already saying to John.

"About what?" John asked at the tail end of his truck.

"About everything. Where we goin', Dad? What's the big deal about this gun?"

"Sam, come on, we can Q and A after we kill the vampires," Dean said, reaching for his brother's arm.

"And do you think if it wasn't important, I wouldn't be drawing pictures of the damn thing," Bridget pointed out. "We apparently need it."

"Your brother and Bridget are right, we don't have time for all this," John said.

"Last time we say you, you said it was too dangerous to be together. Now, out of the blue, you need our help. Now, obviously, something big is goin' down, and we wanna know what!"

"Get back in the car," John ordered.

"No!"

"Here we go…" Bridget mumbled next to Dean.

"Any chance you're emotional enough to knock him out?" Dean mumbled back.

"I said get back in the damn car," John yelled.

"Yeah, and I said no."

"All right," Dean intercepted, grabbing his brother's arm. "You made your point, tough guy. We can talk about this later. Sammy, I mean it, come on or I'll have Bridget toss you into the car. We both know she's getting angry enough to do it."

"Come on, babe, don't start this," she told him.

Sam shook his head, speaking under his breath as Bridget put her hand on his chest. "This is why I left in the first place."

Bridget and Dean both winced and John spoke. "What did you say?"

"You heard me," Sam said turning back to him, breaking free of them.

John nodded, "Yeah. _You_ left. Your brother and me, we needed you. _You_ walked away, Sam, _you_ walked away!" he grabbed Sam by his shirt.

"Stop it!" Dean yelled. "Both of you."

Nether seemed to hear, "You were the one who said "Don't come back", Dad. You're the one who closed the door, not me! You were just pissed off you couldn't control me anymore! And you still can't!"

Bridget felt her anger hit that boiling point, especially when she saw the hurt Dean was in, how badly this was affecting him and how these two were too blind and dumb to see. The look on Dean's face was enough to build her power to a boil. With a growl she pushed her power out at the two who were toe to toe. The power moved between them, shoving them apart with enough force to send John back against the truck and Sam tumbling to the floor.

"BUT I CAN!" She yelled and stepped forward next to Dean. "I am sick of this! You two act like children. Get over it! You're adults." She looked at Sam, pointing at John. "He is your father! The only parent you have and you need to respect him because you won't have him around forever, you never know when it will end, trust me on that. And no, you didn't have a normal childhood, but grow up and move on." She looked at John. "And you, he's your son and I know you love him but you can't hate him or be so angry with him wanting something more with his life. Hunting isn't what he wanted, he wanted something more and you can't blame him for it. Not all of us want this life, some of us have a choice while others don't get to choose, he was one of the lucky ones for awhile until it pulled him back like me. The only difference is, he can go back to it when this is done. He got accepted into _Stanford_. You should be proud of him for that…and you too, need to grow up." She ran her fingers through her hair as Sam got back to his feet. "Do either of you even see what this is doing to Dean or are you both so blinded by your resentment for one another? He hurts every time you two fight…he loves you both and it kills him to see you at each other's throats because he won't pick a side…each time you fight you destroy the hope he has for you three ever being a family. So stop it, if not for your own sakes, then for your love for him…let's just drop this for now and get this done. You two can kill each other later for all I care…"

Both Sam and John glared at one another, less intense and got back into their own cars. Dean stood next to Bridget. "Uhh…thanks…for that."

"Well, I knew you weren't going to say it so might as well."

"Yeah…throwing them apart was kind of cool too…"

"It was fun," she smiled a little. "Sam's gonna be pissed at me now though…"

He put his arm around her shoulders. "You did the right thing, they needed someone to say that."

She patted his back, "Thanks, Dean…it's really sad when me and you are the normal ones."

"Eh, we used to always be on the same side back in the day of doing this."

"True…very true…" she said, biting her lower lip, noticing how close she was to Dean.

He cleared his throat, dropping his arm from her shoulders. "We should probably get to the car."

"Yeah," Bridget and Dean headed to the Impala when a voice stopped her.

"Bridget!" she heard John yell from the truck. "You're ridin' with me…"

She winced slightly and Dean whistled patting her shoulder. "Have fun…"

"I hate you," she chuckled and walked to John's truck, opening the passenger side door and sliding in.

She stared straight ahead, biting the inside of her lip and keeping her hands firmly in her lap. She tried to keep her nervousness from affecting her but doubted she was doing well on that. She cleared her throat slightly as they drove in silence for a minute or two. "Look…I'm sorry if what I did back there upset you, but -."

"Stop," he said and she shut her mouth. "I don't want you apologizing for that. I didn't bring you in here to yell at you. I wanted to talk to you because you understand them more than I do."

She blinked a few times, "Uhh…ok…"

"You've known Dean for years and you two have always been close and you're dating Sam, so you know him and you're not scared to voice your opinion…or physically do so."

She bit her lip, "Sorry for that. I can't always control it, I can only do that when I'm upset."

"What you said was true though…and…I am proud of him…I just…it's hard to let him go," he said with pause as if each statement was painful to say. "Dean is a hunter, he loves it…Sam though…he never liked it, always rebelled against it, always wanted something different…and in a normal life I could be proud of that…but…it's easier to look out for him when he's close."

"He doesn't need you watching his every move though, John. He can handle himself, just like Dean."

"But he's quick to jump to conclusions."

Bridget thought back to the Meg incident and nodded, "He can be a bit rash. But he does love you and the only thing he ever wanted was to make you proud of him."

"I am proud of him," he argued.

"Yeah, but you never said it," she countered and he fell silent as it dawned on him. "That, that thing you can do, with your mind."

"The telekinesis you mean?"

"Yeah, that. Can you always do that?"

"Like I said, only when I'm emotional, why?"

"We might need that with the vampires if things go bad."

"If things go bad, then trust me, I'll be able to do it."

"Good to know," he said. "I knew you'd come in handy."

"You mean besides the time you first met me after I had saved Dean's ass from being killed? And that I'm a good hustler? And that I was able to get you two through more doors because I'm female? And because I can fight better than Dean or Sam? You mean other than that, right?" she asked with a smile.

He smiled a little, a twitch of his lip, "Yeah, besides that."

* * *

They had found the lair not long after, just ten miles down the road and they had to trek the rest of the way to the abandoned warehouse they were living in. They hid amongst the trees watching, waiting to see.

After watching two of the vampires talking outside in the daylight and heading back in did anyone talk. "Son of a bitch," Dean cursed. "So, they're really not afraid of the sun?"

"No," John shook his head. "Direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill them is by beheading. And, yeah, they sleep during the day. It doesn't mean they won't wake up."

"So I guess walkin' right in is not our best option," Dean said.

"Actually, that's the plan," John said.

The three looked at him stunned as he walked back towards where they had parked. Bridget shook her head, "You're joking right."

"Nope, I'm dead serious."

"Yeah, it's the dead part of that I'm worried about, because if you're trying to get me worked up so I can use my power or whatever it is, then it's working!"

Dean removed the weapon case from the trunk. "Here, Bridge, take a shiny machete. Make yourself feel better," he teased handing one to her. She took it from him with a glare and grabbed one of the guns, tucking it in the back of her skirt and hiding a bottle of Holy Water in her boot. Dean held up another one towards his father. "Dad, I got an extra machete if you need one."

John held up a very shiny, very new blade. "Think I'm okay. Thanks."

"Wow," Bridget gawked in awe.

"So…you guys really wanna know about this Colt?" he asked. The three froze, Bridget in mid flip of her sketch book while looking for clues as to how this was going to turn out, Dean and Sam while grabbing weapons.

"Yes, sir," Sam spoke for the three of them.

John sighed, "It's just a story—a legend, really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter. Back in 1835, when Halley's Comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun—a special gun. He made it for a hunter—a man like us, only on horseback. The story goes he made thirteen bullets. This hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. Somehow, Daniel got his hands on it. They say—they say this gun can kill anything."

"Kill anything? Like supernatural anything?" Bridget asked.

"Like the demon," Sam asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up its trail, I've been lookin' for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun…we may have it," he said.

Bridget's eyes drifted to the picture of her home on fire so many years ago. She flipped to the back where the Colt drawing was, more determined than ever to find it. She touched her necklace, she wanted to end this for all of them.

* * *

Bridget crawled through the window, following after Sam, closing it quietly. Her eyes widened a bit. There were at least six or seven vampires sleeping in hammocks around the room. Dean gestured to different areas and Bridget followed Sam as Dean ducked under a hammock but knocked over a glass and bumped the hammock. They all held their breath but the vampire just snorted. They cautiously walked into another room and find one of the women the vampires had captured. A noise, startled them to a cage like door where several more men and women were tied up.

Dean grabbed a crowbar to break the padlock while Sam untied to the woman on the bed. "I don't know if that's a good idea," Bridget whispered.

"We need to help her," Sam argued as the woman began to stir.

"Not so sure that's smart," she said.

The woman woke, her eyes going wide as she looked at Sam. "Shh," he hushed her. "I'm here to help you."

She screamed and Bridget jumped, watching as the vampires woke.

"RUN!" they hear John yell from somewhere in the nest.

Without a second thought, the three ran out the door and into the woods but the vampires didn't follow.

"Dad?" Dean yelled into the woods. "Dad!"

"They won't follow," he said appearing a moment later. "Once a vampire gets your scent, it's for life."

"That's reassuring," Bridget grumbled.

"What the hell do we do now?" Dean asked.

"You got to find the nearest funeral home, that's what?"

Bridget frowned looking at Sam and Dean who held similar expressions.

* * *

"Why me? Why am I always used to get through doors?" Bridget asked walking with Dean back to the car.

"Because you got the ass and chest to do the job," Dean answered and she smacked him, careful not to drop the jar of blood she had in her hand.

"Yeah, well, to be honest I only came with you because your brother and dad need a heart to heart. I'm hoping it goes well," she said, getting into the car.

Dean nodded, driving back to the hotel. "Yeah me too, or else your efforts would be wasted since the alternative is they've killed each other."

She chuckled, holding up the jar. "I think this is the weirdest thing your dad has ever made us do in the last 4 years."

"I don't know, when he had us steal the raw meat from the zoo, that was pretty weird."

"Yeah, I've never seen you so afraid of a kitty cat."

"It was a lion," he defended himself. "Those things can tear you apart."

"It was sleeping," she argued. "You did look pretty funny running up that wall to get over it though."

"You'd have been scared too, if it was you."

Bridge put the blood in the paper bag she had and set it on the seat. "Just like the old days…"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Funny how things can change but still stay the same…"

She nodded her head with a smile and glance at him, "Yeah, it is…except we aren't getting smashed at the bar after this."

"I'm up for that when this is over."

"You would be," she snorted as they pulled in to the hotel parking lot. Dean grabbed the bag and opened the door for her to the hotel room.

"Whew," Dean said. "Man, there's some heavy security to protect a bunch of dead guys. Lucky for us, Bridget still has complete power over guys."

She grinned, "Amazing what a little bending across a table, sweet smile, and batting eyes will get you…usually goes well for drinks but apparently I can see dead guys too."

"Did you get it?" John asked with a snort at their comments.

Dean held out the bag and took out the jar. He handed it to a smiling John. He set it on the table and looked at Bridget and Dean. "You know what to do."

She sighed, "Just like old times after all…I'm still bait…"

Thirty minutes later Bridget stood leaning against the car near Dean who had the hood popped open looking at the engine, "How's it lookin'?"

"Not good," Dean grumbled.

"I could say the same for you," the vampire Kate said with a smile. They spun in her direction where she stood with a grin next to another male vampire. "Car trouble? Let me give you a lift, take you guys back to my place."

Dean shook his head as she stood closer to him. "Nah, I'll pass. I usually draw the line at necrophilia."

"I'm not much into dead guys nowadays either. Had enough of them for one night," Bridget said to the male vampire.

"Oh," Kate nodded and punched Dean knocking him to the floor.

"Dean!" Bridget stepped to help him, but tall guy back handed her, sending her to the floor. She watched Kate grab Dean.

"Well," Dean went on as usual. "I don't normally get this friendly 'til the second date."

"You know, we could have some fun. I always like to make new friends," she smiled, kissing him.

The other loomed over Bridget and she scooted back slightly, "Really, I'm not interested. The whole human – dead thing just wouldn't work out real well."

Kate ended the kiss and Dean shook his head, "Sorry, I never really stay with a chick that long – definitely not eternity."

Suddenly the vampires were struck with arrows in their chest and Sam and John came out from behind some trees holding their weapons. The guy vampire collapsed to the ground while Kate mused over it. "Damn…barely even stings," she smiled.

"Give it time, sweetheart," John promised her. "That arrow's soaked in dead man's blood. It's like poison to you, isn't it?" Her smiled suddenly faded as her eyes glazed over and she fell backwards into Dean's arms. "Load her up. I'll take care of this one."

Dean carried Kate to the car while Sam gave Bridget a hand up, inspecting her face. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I've taken worse hits than that before, it won't even bruise," she told him and turned when she heard a fleshy wet sound. She watched the vampire's head roll across the ground with the same look she'd give a ball. Sometimes it disturbed her that these things didn't disturb her.

They only drove a few miles up the road to a clearing. Dean and Sam tied Kate to a tree while John started a fire. He went to the back of his truck and handed Bridget some things. "Toss this on the fire, Bridge. Saffron, skunks, cabbage, and trillium – it'll block our scent and hers until we're ready."

Bridget gagged and threw it on the fire. "This stuff stinks."

"Well, that's the idea. Dust your clothes with the ashes and you'll stand a chance of not being detected."

Bridget looked glum as she did so, knowing she'd have to wash these three times just to get the stench out.

"You sure they'll come after her?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," John nodded. "Vampires mate for life. She means more to the leader than the gun. But the blood sickness is gonna wear off soon. So you don't have a lot of time."

"Half hour ought to do it," Sam said.

"And then I want you out of the area as fast as you can," he ordered.

"But-." Sam started until Dean cut him off.

"Dad, you can't take care of all of them by yourself."

"I'll have her and the Colt," he said.

"But after – we're gonna meet up, right? Use the gun _together_ right?" Sam asked and his dad remained silent, speaking the answer more than his voice could. "You're leaving again, aren't you? You still want to go after the demon alone? You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this."

"Like what?"

"Like children."

"You _are_ my children. The three of you. I'm trying to keep you safe."

"Dad, all due respect, but that's a bunch of crap," Dean said. Bridget, John, and Sam stared at him in surprise.

"Excuse me?" John said, not sure he heard him right.

"You know what Sammy, Bridget, and I have been huntin'. Hell, you sent us on a few huntin' trips yourself. You can't be that worried about keeping us safe."

"It's not the same thing, Dean," he said.

"Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?"

"This demon? It's a bad son of a bitch," he told them. "I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive."

"You mean you can't be reckless," Bridget filled in.

"And you'll be if we're there," Sam added

"Look…I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Your mother's death – it almost killed me. I can't watch my children die too."

"What happens if you die? Dad, what happens if you die and we could have done somethin' about it? You know, I've been thinkin' – think maybe Sammy's right about this one. I think we should do this together. We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are. You know it," Dean said.

"We're running out of time. You do your job, and you get out of this area. That's an order." He walked away, leaving the boys feeling helpless.

Bridget clucked her tongue, arms folded over her chest. "Sometimes orders are meant to be broken…"

* * *

It didn't take long to kill the vampires left at the nest and free the humans who had been locked up for feeding. They had parked the car around the bend and used the woods as camouflage, the ashes working to cover their scent. Dean had the crossbow with the dead man's blood arrows. Bridget had the machete in one hand and the Holy Water still stuck in her boot. She grabbed it holding it in her other hand.

"You ready for this?" Dean asked her. She knew he was talking about her object moving abilities.

She watched Luther hit John, causing him to hit the door of the truck and collapse to the ground unconscious. She felt it quiver inside her. "I'm ready."

Dean shot an arrow, striking a vampire and they moved out of the woods. Dean shot another and Sam and Bridget moved forward. Luther hit Sam and grabbed him by the throat, choking him. Bridget raised her knife to strike at him but he stopped her and Dean, squeezing Sam's neck harder. "Don't! I'll break his neck. Put the blades down."

Bridget reluctantly set the blade and bottle down on the ground, watching Sam desperately trying to breathe as Luther held him close. Movement near the truck caught her attention and she saw John inching towards the gun. He met her eyes and she looked down at the Holy Water then at him then back at the Holy Water at Luther then back at John. He nodded his head in understanding. She focused her eyes on the Holy Water, it started shaking slightly. She focused harder on that until she felt she had a grip on it.

Luther was talking, "You people – why can't you just leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do."

Bridget threw the bottle, breaking it in the grip at the same time. It splashed into Luther's face and he dropped Sam, screaming and clutching at his face. He hissed at Bridget through red eyes and a boiling face. "I'll kill you, bitch." He took two steps towards her.

"I don't think so," John said and fired the Colt. The bullet hit him in the middle of his head and everyone watched as he sunk to his knees.

"Luther!" Kate screamed and there was a flash of light as he completely died. Livid, she started walking towards John.

"Kate, don't!" another vampire grabbed her, dragging her back to the car.

The three turned and looked at John who smiled triumphantly. "Nice team work there, Bridge."

She shrugged, "I'm a natural."

"You're getting' better at that too," Dean said.

"Not really," she rubbed at her head. "Still gives me a headache, not as big as I used to get though."

John stood up with a slight wince, "We better get back to the hotel. Get out of town before they decide to have their revenge."

They nodded and walked around the bend to the Impala driving back to the hotel.

Once there, they started packing their things away. John entered the room and Bridget got the feeling of being grounded after being busted for something they weren't supposed to do – like stick around.

"So…"

"Yes, sir," Sam asked, standing up. Bridget and Dean fell in line with him.

"You ignored a direct order back there."

"Yes, sir," Bridget nodded.

"But we saved your ass," Dean added and Bridget grinned as Sam looked surprised.

"You're right," John nodded.

That caused them t be full on shocked, Dean blinked a few times, "I am?"

He took a deep breath, "It scares the hell out of me. You two – three including Bridge – are all I've got. But I guess we _are _stronger as a family. So…we go after this damn thing – together."

Bridget grinned and nodded, speaking at the same time as Sam and Dean. "Yes, sir."

She glanced at her sketch book I her hands, where she had drawn a set of yellow eyes a few days ago and another of Meg. They would find them, she was sure of it. Whether they lived through it or not was anyone's guess.


	15. Salvation

**DISCLAIMER: I still own no one:)**

**S1 EP21 SALVATION**

Books and newspaper articles were strewn across the table. Photographs were pinned to the wall of the hotel room along with various drawings from Bridget's sketch book that she had drawn out in that week along with previous others. John was seated at the desk while Sam, Bridget, and Dean remained standing. The Colt sat in front of him and he gestured at all the maps and books and papers, "So, this is it. This is everything I know. Look, our whole lives we've been searching for this demon, right? And not a trace, just nothing…until about a year ago. For the first time, I picked up a trail."

"That was when you took off," Bridget noted.

He nodded, "Yeah, that's right. The demon must have come out of hiding or hibernation."

"All right, so what's this trail you found?" Dean asked.

"It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California – houses are burning down to the ground. It's going after families…just like it went after us and Bridget."

"Families with infants?" Sam asked.

"Yeah- the night of the kid's six month birthday."

"I was six months old that night?" Sam asked.

"Exactly six months," John said.

Sam glanced at Bridget and she nodded, knowing the question. "My nephew was six months old that night too."

"So, basically, this demon is goin' after these kids for some reason – the same way it came for me? So, Mom's death, Jessica – it's all 'cause of me?"

"We don't know that, Sam," Dean said.

"Oh, really, 'cause I'd say we're pretty damn sure, Dean," Sam argued.

"For the last time, what happened to them was not your fault," Dean said irritated.

"Yeah, you're right, it's not my fault, but it's my problem."

"No, it's not your problem, it's _our_ problem!"

"Okay, that's enough," John said and stood up.

Bridget was the first to speak, "So, why is it doing it? What does it want?"

"Look, I wish I had more answers. I've always been one step behind it…I've never gotten there in time to save…"

"All right," Dean said after a moment. "So, how do we find it before it hits again?"

"There's signs. Look, it took me a while to see the pattern, but in the days before these fires, signs crop up in an area – cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms. And then I went back and checked and…"

"These things happened in Lawrence."

He nodded, "The week before you mother died," he looked at Sam. "And in Palo Alto…before Jessica…" he turned his head to Bridget. "And in Denver…before your brother and his family…and these signs are starting again."

"Where?" Bridget asked.

"Salvation, Iowa."

* * *

"Not exactly the vacation capital of the world, is it?" Bridget asked, looking out her window at the plain fields and small housing units of the little town, tapping her pencil against the railroad tracks she had drawn through the perspective of a window. It was a picture she had the other night and couldn't figure it out.

"Good thing we're not on vacation," said Dean.

"No, but after this I want one," she mumbled.

"Yeah, tell me…what the hell, why is Dad pulling over?" Dean asked and pulled the Impala to the side of the road. They got out of the car as John did, furious.

"Damn it!" he yelled.

"What is it?" Bridget asked.

"Son of a bitch!"

"What?" Dean asked.

"I just got a call from Caleb"

"Is he okay?" Dean asked.

"He's fine…Jim Murphy is dead."

"Pastor Jim? How?" asked Sam.

"Throat was slashed – he bled out. Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place."

"The demon?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. Could be he just got careless, he slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're gettin' close."

"What do you want to do?" Bridget questioned this time.

"Now we act like every second counts. There's two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, we cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's gonna be six months old next week."

"Dad, that could be dozens of kids. How the hell are we gonna know which one's the right one?" Sam asked.

"We'll check 'em all, that's how. You got any better ideas?"

Sam sighed, "No, sir."

"Good, let's get moving…" he said more determined than ever as he headed back to his truck.

Bridget rubbed the back of her neck with a yawn, "Yup, major vacation after this."

* * *

Dean dropped her and Sam off at the Salvation medical center and she grabbed the detective badges from the lock box for each of them, sliding her coat on as she got out of the car, glad she had chosen to wear jeans and a dark red long sleeved fitting shirt. They hurried in to avoid the rain and walked to the front desk, sliding their badges across the table.

"Hello," Sam greeted the receptionist. "I was wondering if we could see the records for every baby born in the last six months. Our client believes there was an incident with a mix up at birth, we just need to double check for her."

"Sure, let me get those for you," she said and turned away.

"Smooth move," Bridget snorted.

The receptionist came back twenty minutes later with several files and Bridget took out a note pad from her shoulder bag, handing a sheet to Sam as they copied the information down. Thirty minute later they were leaving the center.

Bridget cracked her knuckles, "I don't even get cramps in my fingers from drawing."

Sam suddenly stopped walking in front of her and she grabbed his elbow just as grimaced, rubbing at his temples. "Sam? Sam, what is it? What are you seeing?" He cried out and she held onto him, waiting for them to finish, feeling helpless. Suddenly he stood straighter, breathing heavily.

"Sam?"

"Train…" he said. "There's a train near the house."

Bridget's eyes widened and she grabbed her sketch book , flipping to the page. She held it to him, "Is this the train, Sam?"

He glanced at it with a nod, "Yeah, that's it."

She put the sketch book away and took out a map. "Okay, the only train running here is past this street in town."

"Let's go find it," he said and she stayed close to him, keeping her arm around him as they continued.

"You know, you don't have to keep your arm around me," he told her.

"I know, but it's an excuse to actually hold onto you. We haven't had any alone time in weeks, any closeness I can get, I'm taking," she said with a smile.

He chuckled slightly, putting his arm around her and kissing the top of her head. "When this is over, we'll have our vacation…and our own room."

"Sounds promising…but I think I want to sleep for a week first."

"Exactly what I was thinking," he nodded as they entered the small street area. Sam stopped a moment looking around.

"Is this the street?" she asked, looking up at him. She hated that in her boots he was still eight inches taller than her.

He nodded again, "Yeah," his eyes scanned the area and he pointed to a lady pushing a stroller, holding an umbrella. "That's her…"

They walked over to her and Sam went into gentleman mode as he saw her struggling to close the umbrella. "Hi," he said to the woman and put his hand on the carriage so it wouldn't tilt or move away. "Here, let me hold that. You don't need that anymore."

"Thanks," she said with a chuckle.

Bridget looked at the baby, "She's gorgeous. Is she yours?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, wow," Sam said and smiled at the baby. "Hi." He looked back at the dark haired lady. "I'm sorry, I'm rude. I'm Sam, this is my girlfriend, Bridget. We just moved up the block."

"Oh, hey, I'm Monica. This is Rosie."

"Rosie," Bridget repeated her name, "Hi, Rosie."

"Do you two have any children?"

Bridget's head shot up and she chuckled nervously, "Us? No. We've only been together a few months, not on the agenda, especially with our jobs."

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "We're on the road a lot."

"Oh…well, welcome to the neighborhood," Monica greeted them.

"Thank you. She's such a good baby," Sam commented.

"I know. I mean, she never cries. She just stares at everybody. Sometimes she looks at you, and I swear, she's reading your mind."

"What about you, Monica?" Bridget asked. "Have you lived here long?"

"My husband and I, we bought our place just before Rosie was born."

"How old is she?" Sam asked.

"She's six months today. She's big, growin' like a weed."

Sam smiled half heartedly, "Yeah…"

He trailed off and Bridget cleared her throat and grabbed Sam's hand. "Well, you take care, Monica. I got to get him home, he's had this headache all day."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," he said concerned.

"He'll be okay. It's usually the weather," she waved and crossed the street with Sam. "See you around."

A car pulled up into the driveway and Monica looked at Rosie. "Oh, there's Daddy." They watched from across the way and Bridget sighed. Sam grimaced suddenly and Bridget forgot she was holding his hand until the vision ripped through her though not painful as it was for Sam. She saw Rosie's nursery, the clock on the wall suddenly stopping. The mobile above her crib started to spin and a shadow of a man walked towards the crib. Monica came into the room at that point, eyes wide as the demon looked at her. She suddenly became pinned to the wall, screaming her daughter's name as blood pooled at her waist and the nursery caught on fire.

The vision ended and she grabbed hold of Sam as he clutched at his head, "Okay, time to get back to the hotel," she told him and they walked the rest of the way.

* * *

Bridget stood behind Sam who sat at the table, her hands on his shoulders while John and Dean sat on the bed. "A vision?" John questioned.

"Yes. I saw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling."

"I saw it too," Bridget nodded. "He was holding my hand at the time. It seeped into me.

"And you think it's gonna happen to this woman you met because…?" John trailed.

"Because these things happen exactly the way I see them," Sam said.

"It started out as nightmares," Bridget said, "And then he started getting visions. It's different from mine. I've been able to do it since I was thirteen or so. I only get them when I'm asleep and it's pictures…and it doesn't hurt. But Sam's are connected some how."

"Yeah, it's like the closer I get to anything involving the demon, the stronger the visions get."

"All right, when were you gonna tell me about this?"

"We didn't know what it meant," Dean said.

"All right, something like this starts happening to your brother, you pick up the phone and you call me."

Dean scoffed, looking at his Dad. "Call you? Are you kiddin' me, Dad? I called you from Lawrence, all right? Sam called you when I was dying. Gettin' you on the phone – I got a better chance of winning the lottery."

John was silent a moment, "You're right. Although I'm not real crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry."

"Look, guys, visions or no visions, the fact is, we know the demon is coming tonight. And this family's gonna go through the same hell that we all went through," Sam pointed out.

"No, they're not. No one is, ever again," John said and stood up. Sam's phone rang next to Bridget and she picked it up, not recognizing the number.

"Hello?"

"Bridget…" the voice said.

She felt her blood run cold and her eyes widen. Her necklace started to her warm and she touched it. "Meg…last time I saw you, you fell out the window then were standing on the street corner siking your little demons on us."

Sam and Dean stared at Bridget, wide eyed as she mentioned Meg's name. Meg continued talking, "Yeah, thanks for that. That really hurt my feelings by the way."

"Just your feelings? I'll have to try harder next time because me and you aren't done," she hissed.

Meg sighed, "Just let me talk to John. We can discuss this later."

"And we will," she promised and handed the phone to John putting it on speaker.

"This is John," he said holding the phone close, but they could still hear.

"Howdy, John. I'm Meg. I'm a friend of your boys and a real close friend to Bridget as you might have heard by now, we're linked especially by her dear Will."

Her fists clenched and Sam grabbed her hand, pulling her to stand next to him.

Meg continued, "I'm also the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood. But that was yesterday. Today, I'm in Lincoln…visiting another old friend of yours. He wants to say hi…" they waited a moment and Caleb's voice came over the phone. "John, whatever they do, don't give-."

"Caleb?" John said and the other three looked worried. "You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go."

"We know you have the Colt, John," Meg said.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh. Okay. So, listen to this then," they heard a knife move and heard a gurgling choking sound.

Bridget gasped a hand going to her mouth as Sam pulled her close to him, she buried her face in his chest.

"Caleb! Caleb!" John shouted into the phone.

"Can you hear that?" Meg teased. "That's the sound of your friend dying, now let's try this again. We know you have the gun, John. Word travels fast. So, as far as we're concerned, you just declared war. And this is what war looks like – it has casualties."

"I'm gonna kill you, you know that," he threatened.

"Oh, John, please. Mind your blood pressure. So, this is the thing – we're gonna keep doing what we're doing and your friends and anyone who has ever helped you, gave you shelter, anyone you ever loved – they'll all die unless you give us that gun."

"Okay," he said quietly in defeat.

"Sorry? Didn't quite hear that?"

"I said okay."

"There's a warehouse in Lincoln. On the corner of Wabash and Lake. You're gonna meet me there."

"It's gonna take me a day's drive to get there."

"Meet me there at midnight tonight."

"That's impossible," he told her. "I can't get there in time and I can't carry a gun on a plane."

"Oh then I guess your friends die, don't they? If you do decide, come alone." She hung up then.

"That bitch…" Bridget said, almost shaking in fury as she moved a step away from Sam.

Dean asked the next question, "What do we do?"

"I'm going to Lincoln," John answered.

"What?"

"It doesn't seem like I have a choice. If I don't go, a lot of people will die. Our friends die."

"Dad, the demon is coming tonight for Monica and her family. That gun is all we've got. You can't just hand it over," Sam told him.

"Who said anything about handing it over? Look, besides us and a couple of vampires, no one's seen the gun. No one knows what it look like."

"So, what, you're just gonna pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?" Dean asked.

"Antique store," John corrected.

"You're going to hand Meg a fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?" Bridget asked, hands on the dresser, still reeling from talking to her.

"Look, as long as it's close, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference," he said.

"Yeah, but for how long? What happens when she figures it out?"

"She won't," Bridget said. "Because I'll kill her before she does…"

"No, you won't because you're not going."

"Like hell I'm not!" she exclaimed.

"I'm not taking you, Bridge. You're staying here."

"No, I'm going to kill her. I've been waiting for this for four years, John."

"And you'll have to keep waitin'."

"She killed Will!" she yelled in her anger.

"You're not going and that's final!"

Bridget growled in frustration and slammed her hand on the desk, it cracked in half under the power of her resentment and she kept her back turned, trying to calm down with deep breaths.

"I'm sorry, Bridge…not this time. I just need to buy a few hours…"

"You mean, for me, Bridget, and Dean…you want us to kill this demon by ourselves…" Sam said.

"No, Sam, I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school. I want Dean to have a home. I want Bridget to have her old life back…," he was in tears now. "I want Mary alive…I just…I just want this to be over."

Bridget turned back with tears in her own eyes, her anger forgotten. He wanted it to be over, just like Sam did, wanted to go back to a normal life. She knew there'd be no normal life after this, least mot for her and probably not for Dean…but to have this step over, to have Yellow Eyes and Meg dead would be a relief.

* * *

There was complete silence as they stood by John's truck at the side of the road. Dean had left to get the "gun" while Bridget and Dam plucked weapons from the truck, in hopes something might injure this damn demon or Meg, but she knew Meg wasn't going down easy. She'd been thrown out a window and survived.

Dean's car pulled up to the side of the road and he held a bag that held the fake gun. "Did you get it?" John asked when he was close enough.

Dean handed him the gun and Bridget took a deep breath, still feeling the dread in her. "You know this is a trap, right? That Meg wants you to come alone and she'll lure us straight to you. She's smart, John, and she's not easy to kill."

"I can handle her. I got a whole arsenal loaded- holy water, Mandaic, amulets."

"She's tricky…she's difficult…"

"Dad…" Dean started.

"What?" he asked, pausing to look at his eldest son.

"Promise me something?" he asked seriously.

"What's that?"

"This thing goes south, just get the hell out of there. Don't get yourself killed, all right? You're no good to us dead."

John paused a moment, taking it in. "Same goes for you. All right, listen to me," he took the real Colt out of his coat. "They made the bullets special for this Colt. There's only four of 'em left. Without 'em, the gun is useless. You make every shot count."

"Yes, sir," Sam nodded.

"I've been waiting a long time for this fight. Now here it is and I'm not gonna be in it," Bridget opened her mouth to say something and John stopped her. "Bridge, I know you'd trade with me in a second, but she wants me…this your fight now, for your brother, your nephew, for Lydia…" he looked at his sons. "For your mother and Jessica…you finish this. You finish what I started. You understand?" he handed the gun to Dean who put it in his coat pocket.

"We'll see you soon, Dad," Sam said confidently.

He nodded with a smile, "I'll see you later…" He got into his truck without another word and drove off.

"Later," Dean said as the truck disappeared into the distance leaving them behind. Bridget touched her necklace, silently hoping that her brother and Will would look out for John…would look out for them all.

* * *

She sat in the back seat, sketching from a picture she had had the night before of a man sitting in a calling circle, his arm in a sling, and a demon coming forth with a smile on his face…or the drawing of a body on fire, a burial ritual of some sort since it lay on a platform of sticks, wrapped in a sheet. Like most pictures, she had no idea where it came from but knew they always happened.

"Maybe we can tell there's a gas leak," Sam said from the front seat. "Might get 'em out of the house for a few hours."

Bridget snorted, putting her sketch book away, "Yeah, and how many times has that actually worked for us?"

"Could always tell them the truth?" he suggested.

Bridget and Dean gave him a knowing look, Dean shook his head. "Nah."

"I know. I know, I know. I just – with what's coming for these people -."

"Sam," Dean interrupted. "We've only got one move, and you know it, all right? We've got to wait for that demon to show itself, and then we get it before it gets them."

He nodded his head, "I wonder how Dad's doing…"

"I'd feel a lot better if we were backin' him up," Dean said.

"I'd feel a lot better if he were backin' _us_ up," Sam said.

"And I'd feel a lot better if _I _was kicking Meg's ass," Bridget added.

"Any insight on that, Bridge? What's going on there?" Dean asked her.

"I'm not psychic per say. I just see things in dreams and draw them and nothing has come up so far from my sketches on the warehouse and Meg," she said, flipping through her pages, pausing curiously of one with three people pinned to the wall unmoving and Yellow Eyes standing there, that could be them pinned by him in Rosie's room, in which case she had nothing after that but the crash drawing and the broken arm and burning.

"This is weird," Sam said suddenly.

"What's weird? Besides our lives?" Bridget asked still studying the drawing.

"After all these years, we're finally here. It doesn't seem real," Sam said.

"We just got to keep our heads and do our job," Dean told him.

"Yeah, but this isn't like always," Sam told him.

"True."

After a moment Sam cleared his throat, "Hey Bridge…"

"Yeah…" she said, eyes on the drawing.

"I wanted to thank you."

She eyed him now, "For what?"

"Being there for me and listening, really listening and understanding me. Helping me out with all these weird things going on. Just wanted to tell you that…"

She glanced at Dean who was just as perplexed. She nodded her head, "You're welcome..."

He went on, "And Dean, uh…I wanna thank you too?"

Dean looked at him, "For what?"

"For everything. You've always had my back, you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone, I could always count on you. And now…I don't know. I just wanted to let you know – just in case."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, are you kiddin' me? Kiddin' us?" he gestured at Bridget who had leaned over the seat, forgetting the sketch for now.

"What?" he asked.

"Don't say, 'just in case somethin' happens to you', I don't wanna hear that freakin' speech, man. Neither of do. Nobody's dying tonight. Not us, not that family, nobody – except that demon. That evil son of a bitch ain't gettin' any older than tonight, you understand me?"

Sam nodded.

"Good," Bridget added as Dean pulled out his phone. "Because I'll be damned if anyone else I care about dies." She sat back, picking up the sketch book to study the picture, something about it told her this wasn't right.

Dean hung up , "Dad's not answering."

"Maybe Meg was late. Maybe cell reception's bad."

"Yeah, well…"

Bridget couldn't take it anymore, "Sam, look at this," she handed him the book. "Is that Rosie's room?"

Sam looked at it and shook his head, "No, no that's not it. Why?"

Bridget stared at it again…it was a warehouse room…wooden walls, wooden table, the Colt laying on it. The Demon wasn't going to die in Rosie's house…this was all a set up for something bigger…and they'd already walked right into it.

She opened her mouth to tell them but Sam beat her to speaking, "Wait, listen," he said as the radio turned to static. He tried to tune it but got nothing. They looked up just as the lights in the house started to flicker madly. "It's coming!"

Bridget dropped her sketch book, running out of the car with the brothers towards the house. Dean was quick to pick the lock and they went inside. Not even a moment later, Monica's husband, Charlie, came at them with a baseball bat. He swung at Dean who pinned him to the wall. He struggled to get lose. "Get out of my house!" he yelled.

"Mr. Holt, please," Sam said trying to get him to calm down.

"Be quiet and listen," Dean shouted at him. "We're trying to help you, okay?"

"Charlie?" Monica's voice came from upstairs. "Is everything okay?"

"Monica, get the baby!" he shouted at her.

"No, don't go in the nursery!" Sam shouted and he and Bridget took the stairs after her. They entered the nursery and it was just like the vision. Monica got pinned to the wall, being raised to the ceiling just as Sam came in behind Bridget. The demon looked at them with fiery eyes and Sam raised the gun.

"No!" Bridget yelled and reached too late as he fired, wasting a bullet. Monica fell to the floor as Yellow Eyes disappeared.

"Where the hell did he go?" he asked.

"Dammit! You had to wait til he formed, he was still shadow!" she shouted at him, hurrying to the crib.

"My baby!" Monica shouted as Sam helped her up.

"Bridget's got her," Sam reassured her.

She grabbed Rosie out of the crib just as it burst into flames and hurried out of the house behind Sam and Dean who had dragged a still pissed off Charlie outside. Bridget handed Rosie to Monica.

"You get away from my family!"

"Charlie, don't! They saved us," she cradled Rosie close. "Thank you. Thank you all…"

Bridget felt her necklace vibrate before she could reply and touched it, turning to look up at the burning house. The silhouette of the demon stood there.

"It's still in there!" Sam said and started moving towards the house.

Bridget and Dean grabbed at him, "Sam, no!" Dean yelled.

He wrestled against their hold, "Let me go! It's still in there!"

"Burning to the ground – it's suicide!" Bridget yelled at him.

"I don't care!"

"We do!" Dean yelled and let go of him as he stopped struggling. The three watched as it disappeared from the window. As it did, her necklace stopped moving.

Not long after they were back at the motel where Dean was trying to call John and Sam was still brooding on the corner of the bed.

"I'm telling you, this is a huge trap," Bridget said biting at her thumb and pacing. "We fell right into it."

"Something's wrong," Dean nodded hanging up the phone. "Dad's not answering," he looked at Sam. "You listening? I said something happened."

"If you had just let me go in there, I could have ended this all."

"Sam, the only thing you would have ended was your life," Bridget told him.

"You don't know that," he said with a shake of his head.

"So what? You're just gonna sacrifice yourself, is that it?" Dean asked him.

He stood up, "Yeah. Yeah, you're damn right I am."

"That's not gonna happen – not as long as I'm around," Dean told him.

"I won't let you be that stupid either," Bridget told him.

"What the hell are you both talking about? We've been searching for this thing forever. It's the only thing we've ever cared about."

"Sam, I wanna waste it. I do, okay?" Dean said calmly. "But it's not worth dyin' over."

"What?"

"I mean it. If hunting this demon means you getting' yourself killed, then I hope we never find the damn thing."

"That thing killed Jess. That thing killed Mom," he looked at Bridget. "That think killed your family."

"You said yourself once…no matter what we do, they're gone. And they're never coming back," Bridget said.

"No!" he shouted angrily. "Don't say that."

"It's true, she's right," Dean agreed.

Sam grabbed him by his shirt and pinned him to the wall. "Don't you- not after all this, don't you say it!"

Bridget put her hand on his arm, calmly, standing next to both of them. "Sam…"

"Sammy…" Dean said emotionally. "Look…the four of us, that's all we have. And that's all I have. Sometimes I feel like I'm barley holdin' it together, man." Sam let go of Dean with tears in his eyes and she dropped her hand from his arm, taking a step back as Dean went on. "Without you and Dad and Bridge…" he stopped unable to speak anymore.

"Dad…" Sam said as if remembering. "We should try calling him again."

Bridget pulled out her cell, unable to stand anymore emotional moments. "I'll call him…"

She held the phone to her ear and her eyes widened, breath freezing at the voice that came from the other end, "You three really screwed up this time…"

"Meg," she growled causing Sam and Dean to freeze in fear. "Where is he?"

"You're never gonna see him again. Tell his boys their never gonna see their father again."

The three exchanged a look of anger and concern…they had fallen into a trap after all. Bridget had a feeling things were about to get worse…a lot worse.


	16. Death Trap

**DISCLAIMER: The end of season one**

**S1 EP22 DEVIL'S TRAP**

(continued in straight from Salvation)

Bridget pulled out her cell, unable to stand anymore emotional moments. "I'll call him…"

She held the phone to her ear and her eyes widened, breath freezing at the voice that came from the other end, "You three really screwed up this time…"

"Meg," she growled causing Sam and Dean to freeze in fear. "Where is he?"

"You're never gonna see him again. Tell his boys their never gonna see their father again."

The three exchanged a look of anger and concern…they had fallen into a trap after all. Bridget had a feeling things were about to get worse…a lot worse. Bridget hung up, "They have your Dad, they have John."

"What'd she say?" Sam asked her.

"I just told you," she said as Dean grabbed the duffel bag and the Colt, tucking it into the back of his pants.

"What are you doing, Dean?" Bridget asked him.

"We gotta go."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Because the demon knows we're in Salvation, all right? It knows we've got the Colt, it's got Dad, it's probably comin' for us next."

"Good," Sam said. "We've still got three bullets. Let it come."

"Listen, tough guy, we're not ready! We don't know how many of 'em are out there. Now, we're no good to anybody dead. We're leaving. Now…"

Bridget didn't question him and grabbed Sam's hand, following Dean out to the car. She had something to add. "But we're gonna need help and you know exactly who we have to go to…"

"Yeah…you're right," he nodded.

* * *

The house looked dirty and rundown withy car parts and a cemetery of automobiles decorating the front yard and especially the back that held the hopeful fixer uppers. Inside was a different appearance. It was neat, orderly and fixed up. They were talking to Bobby Singer, the old family friend.

"Here ya go," Bobby handed Dean a small bottle.

"What is this? Holy water?"

"That one is," he held up the other bottle. "This is whiskey." He took a swig and handed it to Dean. Bridget snatched it from him, taking a gulp herself without a wince.

"You never cease to amaze me," Bobby shook his head.

She handed it back to him. "If I had a nickel for every time I hear that." Dean opened his mouth and she pointed her finger at him. "Say what's on your mind and they'll wonder where I hid your body."

He changed his words to Bobby, "Thanks, Bobby, for everything. To tell the truth, I wasn't sure it we should come."

"Nonsense," he said with a wave of his hand. "Your daddy needs help."

"Yeah, but last time we saw you, you did threaten to blast him full of buckshot. You cocked the shotgun and everything," Bridget reminded him.

"Yeah, well, what can I say? John just has that effect on people," Bobby shrugged.

Dean thought it over, "Yeah, I guess he does."

"Bobby, this book – I've never seen anything like it," Sam said from the table.

"The Key of Solomon? It's the real deal, all right," Bobby said.

"And these protective circles – they really work," Sam asked pointing at the picture.

"Hell, yeah. You get a demon in one, they're trapped – powerless. It's like a satanic roach motel."

"The man knows his stuff," Dean nodded.

"I'll tell you somethin' else, too – this is some serious crap you boys stepped in," Bobby said.

"Yeah? How's that?" Sam asked.

"Normal year, I hear, say, three demonic possessions, maybe four, tops."

"Yeah?" Dean said.

"This year, I've hear of twenty-seven so far. You get what I'm sayin'? More and more demons are walkin' among us – a lot more."

"Do you know why?" Bridget asked.

"No, but I know it's somethin' big. A storm's comin'. And you three, and John – you are smack in the middle of it…" the dog started barking outside and Bridget felt her necklace start to quiver, she touched it but found it was the ring that was pulsing with energy. She was here. It was Meg. Her eyes hardened and she turned to the door.

"Something's wrong," Bobby said.

The door was kicked down then and Meg walked in. "No more crap, okay?" She flung Dean into the wall as he tried to hit her with Holy Water. Bridget started walking backwards, towards the living room. "I want the Colt."

"We don't have it on us," Sam told her.

"Didn't I say no more crap? I swear, after everything I heard about you, I've gotta tell you I'm a little underwhelmed. First, Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun and then he leaves the real gun with you three. Did you really think I wouldn't find you?"

Bridget smiled, "Actually, we were counting on it," she glanced up at the ceiling and Meg followed her look, seeing the protective circles on the ceiling. When she moved her head back down Bridget was standing closer to her, "Gotcha," she said and swung her fist, catching Meg straight in the face and knocking her on her ass unconscious.

"Wow," Dean whistled. "Nice punch."

"Thanks, can we tie her to a chair before I decide to do more damage than necessary?"

Fifteen minutes later she was securely fastened and coming to, Bridget was leaning against the wall, watching her and standing with Sam and Dean.

"You know, if you want to tie me up, all you had to do was ask," she teased.

Bobby came in, "I salted the windows and doors. If the demons are out there, they ain't getting in."

"Where's John, Meg?" Bridget asked, pushing her foot off the wall to move closer to her.

"You didn't ask very nicely."

"Where's John, bitch?" she asked again.

"Geez, you kiss your fiancé with that mouth? Oh, I forgot, you don't," she giggled.

Dean moved in past her. "You think this is a game? Where is he? What did you do to him?

"He died screaming. I killed him myself…" she grinned. Dean backhanded her. "That's kind of a turn on, you hitting a girl."

"You're not a girl," he growled.

Bridget grabbed his arm, her back to Meg. "Dean, come on. That's not right." she turned around, hitting Meg with her fist hard enough to jerk her head to the side. "_That's _right."

"Bridget, Dean," Bobby called them and they walked over to him.

"You okay" Sam asked, putting his hand on Bridget's shoulder.

She nodded, "Great."

"She's lying, he's not dead," said Dean.

"Dean, Bridge, you guys gotta be careful with her. Don't hurt her," Bobby warned them.

"Why?"

"Because she really is a girl, that's why," Bobby said.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked with a frown.

"She's possessed. That's a human possessed by a demon, can't you tell?"

They turned and looked at Meg who was visibly shaking in the chair.

"You're trying to tell me that there's an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there? In the body and image that killed my fiancé?"

Bobby nodded.

Bridget ran her fingers through her hair, "This just gets better and better."

Sam grabbed his father's journal, opening it. "We can fix this at least…"

"Are you gonna read me a story?" Meg asked.

"Something like that. Go for it, Sam," Bridget said and Sam started reading Latin.

"An exorcism? Are you serious?" she asked.

"Oh, we're goin' for it, baby – whole nine yards," Dean told her. As Sam kept reading Meg winced and groaned in pain.

"I'm gonna kill you, rip your bones from your body," Meg threatened.

"No," Bridget smiled coldly. "You're going to burn in hell –unless you tell me where John is…" Meg was silent. "Well, at least you'll get a nice tan."

Sam kept reading and Meg started screaming, trembling with the pain. "He begged for his life, begged to see you all one last time, then I slit his throat."

Bridget leaned in closer, "For your sake, I hope you're lying. Because if it's true, I swear to God, I will march into hell myself and I will slaughter you in person for everything you've done to me."

Sam continued reading and pages of a nearby book started to turn. Bridget never turned her cold hard gaze from Meg.

"Where is he?" Dean asked.

"You won't take dead for an answer will you?" she asked, shaking in pain.

"Where is he?" Dean yelled.

"Dead!"

"No, no he's not," Bridget shook her head and noticed the silence. "Sam! Keep reading! Don't stop!"

Meg screamed louder with each word, her chair sliding, the lights in the room flickering.

"He will be!" she yelled and Sam stopped again.

"What?" Bridget asked.

"He's not dead," she panted. "But he will be after what we do to him…"

"How do we know you're tellin' the truth?" Dean asked.

"You don't," she shrugged.

"Sam! Read it," Bridget ordered.

"A building!" Meg stated. "Okay? A building in Jefferson City."

"Missouri? Where? Address?" Dean demanded.

Sam watched his brother and Bridget torture her, demanding information. The look in their eyes scared him, it was so cold, so angry, so…dark.

"I don't know!"

"And the demon we're looking for, where is it?" Sam asked.

"I don't know! I swear! That's everything. That's all I know," she said tears, exhausted and breathing heavily.

"Finish it," Bridget said to Sam.

Meg jerked her head up, "What? I told you the truth!"

"I don't care…"

"You bitch! You promised!"

"I lied…," Bridget said coldly. "Sam. Read…"

"We can still use her," Sam argued. "Find out where the demon is."

"She doesn't know," Dean shook his head.

"She lied!" Sam agued.

"Sam, there's an innocent girl trapped in there…" Bridget said despite her icy look.

"You're gonna kill her," Bobby said. "You said she fell from a building. That girl's body is broken. The only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside. You exorcise it, the girl dies."

"We are not going to leave her like that," Bridget shook her head.

"She's a human being," Bobby said.

"And we're going to put her out of her misery…Bobby she's been like this for four years…she was there when Will died, _four years_…finish it, Sam," Bridget said and walked over to Meg. As Sam kept reading Meg's body twitched and her eyes went coal black, her head fell back and she screamed as an enormous black cloud erupted from her mouth hitting the ceiling and disappearing. Meg's head fell forward, blood dripping from her mouth. She lifted her head up, blood seeping from her nose and mouth.

"She's alive," Dean said and cut her lose. "Get some water and blankets."

"Thank you," Meg said weakly to Bridget.

"Don't thank me…" she shook her head looking away.

"Just take it easy, shh," Sam directed her and lifted her up as gently as he could, laying her on the couch as she groaned in pain. "Sorry, sorry, I've got you, it's okay…"

"Five years…"

"What?" Bridget asked.

"It's been five years…"

"Shh, take it easy," Sam told her.

"I've been awake…for some of it. I couldn't move my own body…the things I did…it's a nightmare," she fixed her eyes on Bridget. "I'm so sorry…"

"It's okay," she said quietly. "It's okay…it wasn't you…"

"Was it telling the truth about our dad?" Dean asked.

"Yes…but it wants you to know…that they want you to come for him…"

"Do you know what it's looking for?" Sam asked, tucking a blanket around her from Bobby.

"Not there…other ones – awful ones…"

"Where are they keeping our dad?"

"By the r-river…sunrise…" she said.

"Sunrise? What does that mean?" Dean asked, but it was too late, she was dead. Bridget took a deep breath, telling herself she freed the girl from a five year imprisonment, but "Meg" was still alive and that settled nothing in her.

Bridget grabbed her shoulder bag off the table in the kitchen, ready to leave.

"You better hurry up and beat it before the paramedics get here," Bobby told them.

"What are you gonna tell them?" Dean asked.

He looked at him sideways, "You think you guys invented lyin' to the cops? I'll figure somethin' out," he handed Sam the book. "Here. Take this. You might need it."

"Thanks."

Dean added on, "Thanks…for everything. Be careful, all right?"

"You just go find your dad. And when you do, bring him around here, would ya? I won't even try to shoot him this time," he laughed half heartedly.

* * *

A few hours later they were parked by the river in Jefferson City. Sam was going through the book and Bridget was flipping through her sketch book, sitting on the bumper, while Dean cleaned his gun.

"You've been quiet," Sam said to her.

"Just getting mentally prepared is all," she said.

"Everything's gonna be fine," Sam said and took out a marker, drawing on the trunk of Dean's car.

"Dude! What are you drawing on my car?"

"It's called a devil's trap. Demons can't get through it or inside it."

"So?"

"It basically turns the trunk into a lockbox."

"So?"

"So, we have a place to hide the Colt while we get dad."

"What are you talkin' about? We're bringin' the Colt with us."

"We can't, Dean. We've only got three bullets left. We can't just use 'em on any demon. We've got to use 'em on _the_ demon."

"No, we have to save Dad, Sam, okay? We're gonna need all the help we can get."

"Dean, you know your dad would be pissed if we used all the bullets," Bridget told him.

"He wouldn't want us to bring the gun," Sam added.

"I don't care! I don't care what Dad wants, okay? And since when do _you_ care what dad wants?" Dean growled.

"_We_ want to kill this demon. You used to want that, too! Hell, you're the one who came and got me from school! You're the one who dragged me back into this, Dean! I'm just tryin' to finish it!" Sam yelled back.

Dean paused, "Well, you and Dad are a lot more alike than you thought, you know that? You both can't wait to sacrifice yourself to this thing. But you know what? I'm gonna be the one to bury you. You're selfish, you know that? You don't care about anything but revenge."

"That's not true, Dean. I want Dad back. But they are expecting us to bring this gun. They get the gun, they will kill us all. that Colt is our leverage, and you know it, Dean. We cannot bring that gun. We can't."

"Fine," Dean muttered.

"I'm serious, Dean."

"I said 'fine', Sam," he took the Colt out of his pocket and put it in the trunk and shut it before he started walking. Bridget glanced up and it dawned on her. She tapped Sam's arm, "Hey, I think I know what Meg meant ," she pointed across the street at the Sunrise Apartments.

"Son of a bitch," Dean cursed. "That's pretty smart. I mean, if those demons can possess people, they can possess almost anybody inside."

"Yeah. And make somebody attack us," Sam said.

"And so we can't kill 'em – a building full of human shields," Dean nodded.

"They know exactly what we look like too," Bridget was betting. "And they can look like anybody."

"This sucks out loud," sighed Dean.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Sam nodded. "All right, so, how the hell are we gonna get in?"

"Pull the fire alarm. Get all the civilians out," Bridget suggested.

"Okay, but then the city responds in what, seven minutes?" asked Sam.

"Seven minutes, exactly," she said with a nod. "Let's go…"

Sam ducked into the building, looking around before pulling the alarm. Outside, Dean was talking to a fireman while Bridget picked the lock on one of the trucks and grabbed three uniforms and helmets. She ducked away, nodding at Dean who ended his conversation following her.

Ten minutes later they were walking the hall in the apartment in firemen uniforms with the EMF reader.

"I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up," Dean said.

"Sure you did," Bridget snorted and the EMF started beeping frantically. They exchanged a look and Dean knocked on the door.

"This is the fire department, we need you to evacuate!"

The door unlocked and Sam and Dean burst through the door spraying the demons with fire extinguishers before shoving them into the closet. Sam and Dean held themselves against the door while Bridget poured salt around the edge of it. She stripped off her uniform and headed to the bedroom.

Dean rushed over to his Dad who lay tied on the bed, "Dad?...He's still breathing. Dad, wake up. Dad!" Dean took out his knife to cut the ropes.

"Wait!" Sam said.

"What?"

"He could be possessed?"

"Are you nuts?"

"Dean, we've got to know," Sam said. He took out a bottle of holy water and poured some on his dad. He woke up.

He blinked a couple times, "Sam? Why are you splashin' water on me?"

He smiled, relieved, "Dad? You okay?"

"They've been druggin' me…where's the Colt?"

"Don't worry, it's safe," Dean promised.

"Good," he nodded as Dean undid his bindings and helped him up, heading for the door.

Bridget put her arm out as she saw two firefighters enter through the front door, eyes black as night. "Oh shit, get back!" she yelled and slammed the bedroom door, locking it.

"Window," Sam instructed and Bridget went out first followed by Dean and John then Sam. Once on the ground she started heading towards the car, keys in her hand. She touched her necklace as it grew more, vibrating a bit. She turned around to see a possessed man knock Sam to the ground, punching him mercilessly.

"Sam!" Bridget shouted and rushed to him, trying to help Dean knock him off Sam. She was flung into the wall while Dean hit the windshield of a car.

Bridget growled, getting on her hands and knees, she looked up at the demon and focused her energy into a ball, throwing it at the demon. He flew off Sam skidding to the ground and was back on his feet, dark eyes set on her. Suddenly a bullet went through his head and she saw sparks as he fell down dead. She got to her feet and turned her head to see Dean holding the Colt.

Bridget kneeled down next to Sam, helping him sit up, his lip bleeding, eye bruised and cheek cut. "Sam, come on, babe. Come on, we got to go."

* * *

Bridget finished salting the doors and windows of the hotel room before sitting next to Sam on the bed with Dean. She looked at Sam's face once more. His eye was swollen pretty bad but his lip had scabbed over.

"Will you quit fussing?" Sam asked her.

"Sorry, it's a habit," she sighed, rubbing her hands on her jeans.

"How's Dad?" Sam asked Dean.

"He just needed a little rest," Dean said. "How are you?"

"I'll survive. Hey, you don't think we were followed do you?"

"I don't know," Bridget answered. "We couldn't have found a more out of the way place."

"Yeah…you guys saved my life back there…"

"So you're glad I brought the gun" Dean asked.

"Man, I'm just tryin' to thank you."

"You're welcome," Dean said and Sam walked to the other side of the room. "Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that guy I shot? There was a person in there…"

"You didn't have a choice, Dean," Sam told him.

"Yeah, I know. That's not what bothers me…"

"Then what does…"

"Killin' that guy…I didn't hesitate. I didn't even flinch. For you, Dad, or Bridget, the things I'm willing to do or kill…it scare me sometimes…"

Bridget put her hand on his shoulder, "You're not the only one who's scared by that…"

"You too?"

"I killed Meg without a second thought and the thing that bothers me is that I'm not that bothered by it…"

"It shouldn't," John said as he entered the room and Bridget fund it odd that her necklace felt like it was moving. "You did good."

"You're not mad?" Dean asked.

"For what?"

"Usin' a bullet?"

"Mad? I'm proud of you," he said and Bridget felt herself tense, eyes moving around the room. "You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you- you watch out for this family. You always have."

"Thanks…" Dean said. The lights in the room flickered and Bridget glanced at them.

"It found us," John said suddenly. "It's here…"

"The demon?" Sam asked.

"Sam, lines of salt on the door and windows," John ordered.

"I already did."

"Check them," he said and Sam nodded leaving the room. "Dean you got the gun?"

"Yeah."

"Give it to me," John said holding his hand out.

"Dad, Sam tried to shoot the demon in Salvation. It vanished."

"This is me. I won't miss. Now, the gun. Hurry," he said.

Bridget touched her necklace and looked at the room…wooden walls. The table in the room. It wasn't a warehouse she drew, it was this room. And the yellow eyed demon was in John.

"You'd be furious," Bridget said trailing off.

"What?" John said.

Bridget stood near Dean who was thinking the same thing. "That I wasted a bullet, Bridget's right, you'd be pissed." He aimed the gun at John. "You're not my dad."

"Dean, it's me," John said holding his hands out.

"I know my Dad better than anyone, you're not him."

"What the hell has gotten into you?" John asked.

"We could ask you the same thing," Bridget said.

Sam came into the room at that point. "Dean? What the hell is going on?"

"Your brother and girlfriend have lost their minds," John answered.

"He's not John, Sam. I drew this room and us in it with the demon. I thought it was a warehouse but it wasn't. He's not your dad," Bridget said.

"What?"

"He's possessed," Dean added.

"Don't listen to him, Sammy," John pleaded.

"Dean, how do you know?"

"He's different."

"You know we don't have time for this. Sam?" John said.

"No," Sam shook his head. He stood next to Bridget with Dean.

"Fine. You're all so sure. Go ahead. Kill me," he said and hung his head. Dean near tears lowered the gun. "I thought so…"

Bridget's necklace got stronger and she gasped, thrown to the wall and pinned in place next to Sam, Dean pinned to the wall to her right. John picked up the Colt. "What a pain in the ass this thing has been…"

"It is you, we've been lookin' for you for a long time," Sam said.

"You found me," he grinned.

"But the holy water," Sam said.

He snorted, "You think somethin' like that works on somethin' like me."

"I'm gonna kill you!"

"Oh, that'd be a neat trick. In fact, here," he put the gun on the table and Bridget saw another drawing was complete. "Make the gun float to you, psychic boy." Sam stared at it but nothing happened. John chuckled. "Well, this is fun. I could've killed you a hundred times today. But this…this is worth the wait," he looked at Dean. "Your dad? He's in here with me – trapped inside his own meat suit. He says hi, by the way. He's gonna tear you apart. He's gonna taste the iron in your blood."

"Let him go. Or I swear to God-." Dean threatened.

"What?" he moved closer to Dean. "What are you and God gonna do? You see, as far as I'm concerned. This is justice…" he turned to Bridget stepping towards her. "You know that little exorcism of yours. That was my daughter."

"Meg?" Bridget asked.

He looked at Dean. "The one in the alley. That was my boy. You understand?"

"You've got to be kidding me," Bridget said.

"What? You're the only one that can have a family? You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed _your _family…" he winced slightly. "Oh right, I already did."

"Son of a bitch!" she yelled at him.

He looked at Dean, "What if I kill your family? Least the rest of them?"

"I wanna know why?" Sam asked.

"You mean, why'd I kill Mommy and pretty little Jessica?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Easy, they got in the way."

"In the way of what?"

"You Sammy, and all the children like you…"

Bridget gritted her teeth, "Then why my family?"

"Your nephew was special like Sam, but stronger, your brother found the right girl, had a miraculous little boy…sadly things don't always go as planned. Since he died in the fire…shame really. Your brother was a good riddance, he was in my way just like Lydia, your sister in law. Will was collateral damage and your misery amused me because I took away everything…and it's funny how history repeats itself. I mean, you saw this and you couldn't stop it. You couldn't stop me just like Sam couldn't save Jess."

"Go to hell," Sam spat.

"He was going to marry her, start a family," John said to Dean. "Did you know that? Bought a ring and everything?" he looked at Bridget. "He can't marry you though, you're not normal. You can't even have any kids of your own," he said and made a mock surprised face, putting a hand to his mouth. "Oh, did I just blow a secret for you? My mistake, but it is true," he smiled and pointed at Sam. "And I'm betting your little boyfriend here doesn't know it. Will knew, but he isn't Will, not even close, right? It's okay, he thinks the same thing of you when it comes to Jessica. In fact, the only thing you two really have in common is your grief over the people I killed, well me and my own."

"Yeah, and I killed your own. Your precious little daughter, right?" Bridget shot back, watching his smile falter. "And your boy in the alley, I tossed him good before Dean put a bullet in him, but getting rid of Meg was so much fun. I'd love to do it again."

He lifted his hand towards her and stopped himself, noticing she was getting to him, "And I'd _love_ to kill your brother again…he was fun to kill…crushed under the weight of his own house, smothered to death with his son in his arms while you did nothing but watch. You watched as they died in that house and you watched the love of your life bleed to death…or _was_ he the love of your life? Are you even sure anymore?" he glanced at Dean then Sam, shifting his eyes only, close enough to her that the others couldn't see, the demon smiled at her. "Doesn't matter now does it? You get to watch everyone you love die again…and I get to enjoy it_ again_."

"Dude, seriously, can you just get it over with and quit with the monologing? I can't stand it much longer."

He turned his attention to Dean, "Funny…but that's all part of your M.O. isn't it? Mask all that nasty pain. Mask the truth."

"Oh, yeah, what's that?" he asked knowing he was going to get himself in it but at least he had forgotten about the pain he'd been causing Bridget. The monologues he could deal with. Him hurting her like that, he couldn't. He could handle it himself.

"You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is…they don't need you. Not like you need them. Sam – he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight. It's more concern than he's ever shown for you. He even dotes after Bridget with more concern."

Bridget chuckled, deriving the attention. "I bet you're real proud of your kids too…but, oh wait, that's right I killed them, least Meg. Like I said, that as fun."

"I'm getting a little tired of your mouth," he said and lowered his head.

Bridget gasped, but not from any pain, from her glowing necklace that was warm against her neck. Yellow Eyes lifted his head in confusion, staring at it. It flared again and his frown eased into an amused look. "Son of a bitch," he chuckled. "Your brother is still a pain in my ass…I should have known it was why my daughter didn't get rid of you…she couldn't…your damn brother and dead boyfriend still protect you from my power."

"Ain't that a bitch," she smiled.

"No matter," he shrugged. "I don't have to hurt _you_ to hurt you…I just need to pick the right…person."

Dean gasped as a circle of blood leaked from his chest and screamed in agony.

"DEAN!" Bridget screamed his name, tears in her eyes, struggling to break free as she saw the blood spreading on his chest. "Dean!"

"No!" Sam shouted.

"Dad! Dad, don't let him kill me," Dean struggled to speak, blood bubbling from his mouth.

"Dean!" Sam grunted trying to break free.

"DEAN!" Bridget screamed his name, tears coming down her cheeks. This hurt worse than him hurting her, much worse. She could take pain. She couldn't take losing someone else, she couldn't lose Dean. He was her best friend, the first person she got to know, got to care for in her "new" life. He helped her more than she ever told him. Losing him would be losing part of herself. "Leave him alone!"

"Make me stop, Bridget. Save him the way you couldn't save your brother."

Bridget focused her eyes on the table. If it was a fight he wanted, it was a fight he'd get and she'd tear him apart. She boiled her anger down until she felt it vibrating in her. She closed it around the Colt. The gun shook on the table as she stared at it, doing what Sam couldn't. It moved across the wood and Yellow Eyes grin faded quickly. He took two steps and back handed her –hard. Bridget saw stars in her vision, felt the blood running from her cheek as he broke skin from the hit, felt her brain rattle and throb, disorienting her.

"I underestimated you…too bad you couldn't do that four years ago, might have made a difference, not like you're making much of one now. Still can't save anyone, can you, Bridget? No…you still get to watch the ones you love die, my how history repeats itself. First Derek, Lydia, your nephew and Will, now Sam and Dean…I think I'll let you live again, your misery amuses me."

"Fuck you," she grumbled through the haze.

He back handed her again and she felt the blood drip down her face. "Huh…I can hurt you after all, just not with any power I have looks like." He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him and she spat in his face.

"Go to hell where I sent your little bitch of a daughter…" she growled.

He hit her again and she saw stars fly across her vision as blood spilt down her chin from her lip. "You'll be there soon enough," he hissed at her.

He focused back on Dean who screamed in pain.

"Dean…" Bridget whimpered his name in her daze.

"Dad, please," Dean moaned and his head dropped unconscious and Yellow Eyes put his head down suddenly.

John lifted his head, his eyes normal. "Stop," he said tearfully. "Stop it."

The force holding them in place let go and Bridget had to steady herself with the wall, still dizzy as Sam lunged for the gun. She hurried to Dean, half catching him, half letting him fall across her as she cradled his head in her lap.

"Dean?" she shook his shoulder slightly, running a hand across his face, wiping the blood from his mouth. "Dean?"

Her heart relaxed a bit when his eyes blinked open wearily. "Bridgey?"

"Yeah, I'm right here," she said, touching his cheek, her other hand going across his chest to hold him close.

"You look like hell…" he said.

She chuckled in her tears, "Yeah, well, you aren't lookin' so pretty yourself."

"We are so…goin' on vacation after this…you owe me a drink…"

"Deal," she promised and looked up to see Sam pointing the gun at John. This nightmare wasn't over yet.

His eyes were yellow again. "You shoot me, you kill Daddy."

"I know," Sam said and shot John in the leg causing Bridget to jump slightly.

John fell to the floor unconscious and Sam hurried to where Bridget sat with Dean. "Dean? Hey," he looked at Bridget. "How is he?"

"He's lost a lot of blood," she said quietly, still worried.

"How are you?"

"I've had worse," she told him, running her hand through Dean's hair.

"Where's Dad?" Dean asked weakly.

"He's right here. He's right here, Dean," Sam reassured him.

"Go check on him…Bridge has me, I'm fine…"

Sam nodded and hurried over to John, shaking his shoulder. "Dad? Dad?"

John stirred and became suddenly alert. "Sammy. It's still alive. It's inside me. You shoot me. You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son!"

Sam had tears in his eyes as he grabbed the gun and pointed it at him.

"Do it! Now!" John yelled.

"Sam…don't you do it. Don't," Dean yelled weakly.

Sam looked at Bridget and she felt the same confliction. That demon killed her family and his…but it was John…it was his dad…it was a lose lose situation. She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.

"You've got to hurry! I can't hold on to it much longer! You shoot me, son! Shoot me!...Son, I'm begging you! We can end this here and now! Sammy!"

"Sam, no," Dean said in tears.

"You do this, Sammy! Sammy…" he was cut off by his own screams as the demon erupted from his mouth in a black cloud, disappearing through the floor boards in the room. John looked at Sam sadly, breathing heavy. All four of them were in tears and Bridget leaned her head against Dean's. He put his hand on her head, running his fingers through her hair.

"It's okay," he whispered to her.

"Nothing about this is okay," she whispered back so only he could hear. "Nothing…everything is wrong…Dean, I…" she stopped herself from saying anything in the moment. She was with Sam. It didn't matter now. It was nothing. "I owe you a _lot_ of drinks."

"I'm gonna need 'em," he muttered with a smile she was guessing since face was still near his.

She kissed his temple, "We better get you in the car and to the hospital so I can go on my vacation."

"Promise to wear a scandalous bikini?" he teased as she helped him sit up.

"No, no guarantee."

"No fun," he muttered.

"Sam," she looked over at him. "I need you to help me get your brother in the car. Can you do that?"

He nodded, "Yeah." He came to Dean's other side, putting his arm around his shoulder and helping him up.

"John, we'll be right back for you. Try not to disappear," Bridget said, half joking though she knew nothing would make light of this situation.

Bridget opened the door to the back seat and they got Dean situated comfortable. She was about to close the door and go back inside with Sam, but Dean's hand closed on her wrist with more strength than she knew he had left. She looked back at him, "What is it?"

"Stay with me," he mumbled to her, eyes half open. "Please…"

She touched his face gently and nodded, "Okay, I'll stay…" she turned to Sam. "Can you handle your Dad?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I got him. Stay with Dean, make sure he stays awake."

Bridget crawled into the back seat with him, sitting in the middle next to Dean and closing the door nearest him. She put her hand on his face, rubbing his cheek gently. "We'll get you fixed up, you'll be back to your usual self…not sure if that's a good or bad thing though…God Dean, I'm so sorry…"

"For wha'?" he asked, turning his head towards her as he leaned it against the window.

"For doing this to you…he was trying to hurt me so he went after you…I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault… kinda an honor he chose me and not Sammy…"

"Yeah, well, I've known you a lot longer," she explained.

"Rather have him hurt me than you," he said quietly.

"Why?" she shook her head.

"Just cuz…"

She bit her lip, fighting her tears, "I'm glad I was able to stop him enough…"

"Cost you your pretty lil face."

"It'll heal," she said still feeling the throb in her head and cheek, and there'd be a bruise near her eye for sure.

"I'm sorry…"

"Bout what?"

"That you can't…you know, can't have kids…"

She grimaced slightly, "Well…he didn't know the whole truth…I can but it's rare…I'll explain it another day."

The passenger door opened and John scooted in. He looked in the back, "How's he doin?"

"He'll be okay once we get him to the hospital," she promised. "You?"

"Be better off dead…"

"Don't say that," Dean grumbled, barely awake now. Bridget rubbed her free hand on his shoulder, sliding her hand from his cheek to his hand, holding it in hers, he squeezed lightly and she returned it.

Sam got in the driver's seat and they were off. "Just hold on, all right?" he said to Dean. "Hospital's only ten minutes away."

"I'm surprised at you, Sammy. Why didn't you kill it?" John asked ands Bridget sighed. Of course it was starting already, why wait? She blinked a couple times, tensing as she felt her necklace buzz and got a feeling of déjà vu. She grabbed her seat belt, buckling herself in then reached across Dean, securing him to his seat. She wasn't sure why she did that…it was just this feeling. She squeezed his fingers and he did the same, weaker than before.

John continued his rant, "I thought we saw eye to eye on this – killin' the demon comes first. Before me."

Sam glanced in the review mirror and Bridget and Dean returned his look. "No, sir. Not before everything. Look, we still have the Colt. We still have one bullet left. We just have to start over, all right, I mean, we already found the demon-."

Three things happened at once. Bridget gasped as her necklace vibrated and flashed, the semi truck plowed into the Impala, tossing her to the left and her head smashed against the seat, and she found herself in oblivion, seeing nothing at all. Her sketch book had fallen out of the satchel, coincidentally opened to the drawing of a car smashed by a semi truck, another vision come true as she lay unconscious with the Winchester's in the smashed in car.

* * *

**SEASON 2 COMING SOON**


	17. Season 2 In My Time of Dying

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the CW characters only the idea of Bridget. Continued from Death Trap….enjoy**

**S2 EP23 In My Time of Dying**

Bridget made a muffled noise, squeezing her eyes together before blinking them open and moving her head off Dean's shoulder, one hand to her own head. She touched the dried blood on the side of her face from earlier. Luckily she seemed pretty uninjured from the wreck itself. She winced slightly touching her lip, feeling the scab at the top of her bottom lip, she must have bit it during the crash, other than that, and feeling sore, she was unhurt. She moved the hair from her face, rubbing at her eyes.

"Bridget?" she heard Sam's voice.

Before she could reply a squeak of metal and a tearing noise caused her to jump, one arm instinctively shielding Dean. The possessed truck driver ripped the door off Sam's side. Dean would be pissed. Sam pointed the gun at him. "Get back, or I'll kill you. I swear to God."

The demon smiled, "No you won't. You're saving that bullet for someone else."

Sam cocked the gun, "Wanna bet?"

The look on Sam's face must have been enough because the demon left the body in a swoop of black mist that left the driver stunned in dismay at the wreck his truck made. "Oh my God."

Bridget turned her head to Dean, covered in blood and unconscious. He had been badly hurt before the wreck, she couldn't tell how much worse it had gotten but it was enough to put her heart in her throat. This had happened because of her after all. Because Yellow Eyes couldn't punish her so Dean took it. "Dean?" she said his name quietly, shaking his shoulder. "Dean?"

He didn't budge. She raised a shaky hand and felt his neck.

"Dean? Dean!" came Sam's frantic voice. "Is he okay?"

"He's breathing and he has a pulse," she reassured him she just didn't tell him how weak it was. "How's your dad?"

"Alive," Sam said with a sigh of relief but she could still hear the fear in him.

She could hear the wail of ambulances coming their way. She undid her seat belt and grabbed her sketch book off the seat. The drawing of the car wreck stared back at her from a sketch she did weeks prior. She lifted her eyes from the picture, scanning the car as faces started to be illuminated by the flashing lights of the oncoming ambulance. John was unconscious in the front seat, shot in the leg from the demon possession she had also seen, Sam's face was a parade of bruises and cuts, more worried over his family than anything. Dean…slumped against the door, blood soaking the front of his shirt and still drizzling from his head. She moved closer to him, sitting up on her knees, one hand went to his shoulder the other to his face.

"Please, wake up," she whispered to him. "You gotta wake up. You have to be okay, you have to live." There was no response and she moved in a trans like state as the paramedics started removing them from the car. She insisted they help Dean first and Sam was all but thrashing away from them as he continuously kept asking about his brother and his dad.

"Ma'am, we need to help you next," the paramedic said once Dean was out.

Still clutching her sketchbook, she shook her head. "I'm fine, really. The cuts are from earlier and I bit my lip that's the worst of it."

"We still need to check you out."

"Okay, but no gurney. I can walk fine," she said and slid out of the car, ignoring the blood that sunk into her jeans as she did – Dean's blood. She noticed there were two ambulances. Sam was already sitting in the back of one next to his brother so Bridget slid into the one with John was still unconscious.

"Is he okay?" she asked as the ambulance took off sirens blaring.

"He's stable," the paramedic said. "Now can you look at me?"

She turned her head to him and let him shine a light in her eyes to check her pupil dilation then followed his finger without moving her head. "You're eyes are dilating normally. Any headaches?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm fine…I'm just worried…"

"Your friends will be fine."

"They're my family."

"They'll be fine," he promised her but the feeling of absolute dread still wouldn't leave her.

* * *

Bridget sat numbly in the hospital room. Her cheek had been bandaged with butterfly stitches, two to help it heal over and her lip had scabbed over with ointment they had put on it and two aspirin to handle any pain she had, but her heart was still hurting from the breaking it was slowly enduring. She had never seen so many tubes attached to a person in her life, and there were more machines than she knew what to make of. One for sure was keeping Dean breathing…

She ran her fingers through her hair, leaning her head in her hands. She wanted to break down and cry, wanted to just let go of the sanity she had, but she couldn't. Not when there was still hope to save him, not when Sam needed her more than ever…and she needed him too…but she needed Dean more. He was her rock, the one solid thing she had in her life after she lost her family. He was the strongest guy she knew and this wasn't right and she had herself to blame. The only thing she did know for sure was that she was going to kill Yellow Eyes, he was going to pay dearly for this.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up at Sam's bruised face. She covered his hand with her own, "Hey…"

"Hey…" his eyes moved to Dean. "This isn't right…"

"I know. I keep telling myself that," she said and stood up out of the chair, wrapping her arms around him and sinking into the warmth of his chest. He tensed under her touch and that caused a pain to go through her, that he was rejecting her comfort and her need for it. She pulled away quickly, putting her hands in her pockets.

A doctor came in the room, "Your father's awake."

"Oh thank God," Sam sighed in relief and reached for her hand, strangely wanting that instead of being held.

"What about Dean?" she asked him.

"He sustained serious injuries – blood loss, contusion to the liver and kidney. But it's head trauma I'm worried about. There's early signs of cerebral edema."

Bridget closed her eyes hanging her head down.

"Well, what can we do?" Sam asked with hope though Bridget knew it was slim to none.

"Well, we won't know his full condition until he wakes up – _if _he wakes up."

Those last words caused her to jerk as if being hit.

"If?" Sam said.

_Screw you…I'm wakin' up_. She heard a faint voice say that sounded much like Dean, causing her eyes to flash open and her head to turn towards him, but he was unconscious still hooked to tubes…though she swore she heard him. Her imagination was playing with her.

Sam squeezed her hand, "Come on, let's go see my Dad…"

She nodded with one last look towards Dean, swearing she heard him still, but that couldn't be right…

John lay in the bed with a broken arm. He took out a card from his wallet and handed it to Sam. "All right, here. Give 'em my insurance."

Sam read the card skeptically. "Elroy McGillicuddy?"

"And his two loving sons. So…what else did the doctor say about Dean?"

"Nothing good," Bridget said.

"Look since the doctor's won't do anything…then we'll have to, that's all. I don't know, I'll find some hoodoo priest to lay some mojo on him."

"We'll look for someone," John agreed.

"Yeah…"

"But, Sam…I don't know if you're gonna find anyone."

"Why not? I found that faith healer."

"Yeah," Bridget nodded. "And he was killing healthy people to save the sick he healed."

"That was one in a million," John admitted.

"So what? What, so we just sit here with our thumbs up our asses?" Sam asked angrily.

"No, I said we'd look," John told him. "All right? I'll check under every stone. Where's the Colt?"

"Your son is dying and you're worried about the Colt?"

"We are hunting this demon, and maybe it's hunting us too. That gun may be our only card."

"It's in the trunk. They dragged the car to a yard off of I-83," Bridget informed him, leaning against the wall.

"All right," he nodded. "You've gotta clean out the trunk before some junk man sees what's inside."

"I already called Bobby. He's an hour out. He's gonna tow the Impala back to his place."

"All right," he looked at Sam. "You got meet up with Bobby. You get the Colt and you bring it back to me, and you watch out for hospital security."

"I think I got it covered," Sam said.

"Hey," Sam paused as John handed him a list. "Here, I made a list of things I need. Have Bobby pick 'em up for me."

Sam read the list, "Acaia? Oil of Abramelin? What's this stuff for?"

"Protection," he said.

"Hey, Dad? You know the demon – he said he had plans for me and children like me. You have any idea what he meant?"

"No, I don't…"

Sam nodded glumly and moved over to Bridget, putting a hand on her arm. "Can you stay with them? Keep an eye on them for me and call me if anything changes?"

"Of course," she told him.

He kissed her chastely and then left her. She eyed John, not believing him at all.

_You sure know somethin'_.

She looked around the room, hearing the echoing voice again. But it was right. John knew something and he wasn't saying it. "You're a crappy liar."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

She pushed off the wall, moving closer to his bed and folding her arms over his chest. "You can't bullshit a bullshitter, John, and you taught me well. You know something. About Sam and you aren't saying it. You _know_ why that bastard wants him. Because his abilities, they have to be tied to it all. It's too much to be a coincidence."

He smiled a bit, making him look older, "I did teach you well…but there are some things I can't tell you, least not right now."

She rubbed at her temples. "You're lucky I'm too tired to argue with you. Too much shit in one day, I'm emotionally and mentally exhausted…I'm going to go sit with Dean for awhile."

"Wait," John said suddenly and she paused. "I want to go with you."

She nodded her head, "Okay…but I'm warning you…it looks bad…"

He nodded his head and gestured to the dresser across the room. "They put my clothes in the drawer, can you get them?"

She opened the top drawer and took out the clothes then waited outside the room for him. Once out in the hall she leaned her head on the wall. "God, Dean…you gotta come out of this…I can't hold this family together. You're the glue…you even hold me together…"

Pressure moved against her shoulder with a cold breeze attached to it. She tensed under it and opened her eyes slowly, looking at the spot. Her fingers moved towards it, touching it, feeling it swirl around her hand. The door opened and John came out, the cold disappeared. She walked with John silently to the room and let him go in first, giving him that moment as she watched from the doorway.

He seemed to age as he walked in, shuffling towards the bed and looking down at his son with sad eyes, at all the machines that kept him alive. He sunk into the chair, holding Dean's hand and lowering his head. Bridget moved into the room and put her hand on his shoulder. "He'll be okay."

"I wish I could believe that…" he said hopelessly.

"He will be, I won't let him die, John."

"I know you won't, Bridge…but some things are out of our hands."

"No," she said sternly. "He took Derek, and Lydia, my nephew, and Will…that's all he gets. He doesn't get to add Dean to that list."

"You're pretty determined."

"He's my best friend," she said and sunk into a chair on Dean's other side, touching his cheek. "We look out for each other, always have. It kills me that this is partially because of me. I'm supposed to watch his back and I get him hurt."

"You didn't do this, Bridget."

"Not completely, but that demon tried to hurt _me_ and when he couldn't he hurt Dean because he knew it would hurt _me_," she shook her head. "Son of a bitch just knew…it should've been me."

"It was the car crash that ultimately did this. Not the demon."

She chuckled humorlessly, "I saw that too…drew it weeks ago."

"You can't stop your visions, Bridge, you see what will happen and nothing will change the outcome."

"Then that's cruel…what's a gift if I can see what will happen."

"Because sometimes it needs to happen for something significant to happen and you need to make sure things turn out the way you see them, you've always been clairvoyant with that."

She thought of the voice she heard earlier and the pressure on her shoulder. Could that have been Dean…

"I think…" she paused, biting the inside of her cheek and looking at Dean's face as she went on. "I think I heard Dean…"

"What do you mean?" he asked eyeing her.

She met his gaze. "Earlier, I heard his voice, like a whisper and I heard it again in your room and then…in the hall I thought I felt a hand on my shoulder…this sounds crazy but – but I think it's Dean."

He stared at her and she thought she was insane after all. He sighed, shifting in his chair. "If anyone can hear Dean, or sense him it'd be you, Bridget."

"Why do you say that? You don't think I'm crazy?"

"No, you've always been special, I knew that from meeting you, noticed you movin' things without touchin' them. Noticed how you just knew things. So I'm not surprised you can sense Dean…you're close to him, maybe even closer than Sammy and he's always trusted you."

She looked back at Dean, holding his hand in hers and closed her eyes, leaning her head in her hand. "God…" she mumbled.

She heard the chair across from her move and saw John standing up. "I need to get back to my room before they come lookin' for me…Sam should be back soon. You stay here, watch out for Dean."

"I've done a bang up job so far."

"He trusts you, Bridge, I don't doubt otherwise."

Bridget sighed. This was more than she could take. Talking to the dead? Not that Dean was dead, but he wasn't far from it, he was here, stuck. And she needed to get him back in his body. "What do I do, Dean? How do I get you back? How do I fix this?" tears slid from her eyes. "This is too much, way too much. I know you're here and I don't know what to do!"

She put her head down on the bed, next to where she held Dean's head and closed her eyes, trying to relax her mind and going back to better days. Days where everything was fine and as normal as they got in their lives. Back to just a couple weeks ago even, hell , yesterday for all she cared because at least they weren't in a hospital.

_Dad, Sam_.

Her head jerked up as she heard it and felt the cool breeze. It was Dean, she was sure of it. She stood up from the chair hurrying down the hall to John's room and stepped into the room and into the middle of a yelling match.

"You're gonna summon the demon. You care more about killing this demon than saving your own son!" Sam yelled getting in John's face.

"Do not tell me how I feel! I am doing this for Dean."

"How? How is revenge gonna help him? You're not thinkin' about anybody but yourself! It's the same selfish obsession!"

"It's funny, you know what, I thought this was your obsession, too! This demon killed your mother, killed your girlfriend. You begged me to be a part of this hunt! Now, if you killed that damn thing when you were supposed to, none of this would have happened!"

"It was possessing you, Dad! I would have killed you, too!"

"Yeah, and your brother would be awake right now!"

"Go to hell!"

"I should have never taken you along in the first place! I knew it was a mistake!"

_SHUT UP!_

She heard Dean yell loud and clear and the water glass shattered next to the bed and she took that as her turn. "Will you both shut up!" they turned to look at her, seeing her angry and tired face. "Look at you two, playing the who cares more game…Jesus, are you two ever going to stop! Because I cannot put up with this much longer. I have no idea how Dean did because I'd have thrown you both through walls. I mean you are at each other's throats with Dean fighting for his life a few door down and all you can do is point fingers so now it's my turn." She looked at Sam. "You need to grow up and stop jumping to conclusions about everything your dad does being selfish. He cares for your brother just as much as you do," she looked at John. "And did you really think he could shoot you even if you begged. You're his _father_. I wouldn't even be able to do it and I'm not even related to you. This was the demon's fault, not ours. Now we just need to find a way to fix and arguing will _not _help. So knock it off because I'm getting a headache from playing referee."

The cold around her intensified and she grabbed at her necklace as it got warm, turning to look out the door as she saw doctor's rush by. "No…Dean…" She was out the door hurrying to Dean's room, not bothering to see if John and Sam had followed her. When she reached the door, tears flooded her eyes and her hands went to her mouth as she saw doctors using a defibrillator on Dean to try and get his heart beating.

"Oh God, no," she whispered, tears in her eyes.

Sam was next to her, sobbing. "No…"

"Still no pulse," they heard a nurse say.

"Charge again," a doctor ordered.

They zapped Dean again and Bridget shut her eyes, grabbing at Sam's arm with her other hand and thankful when he pulled her closer, needing the same comfort she did. "Still no pulse," she heard them say. She touched her necklace with her other hand, praying to Derek and Will to help, to not let God take Dean, not yet. Not now. Not ever.

_Get back_

She heard Dean yell, and her eyes opened slightly…'get back' what was he telling to get back.

"We got a pulse," she heard the nurse say and let out the breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Thank God," she breathed a sigh of relief and looked up at Sam. He was frowning. "What is it?"

"I heard something."

She gasped a little, "Was…was it Dean…saying get back?"

His eyes widened as he looked at her, "You heard him?"

She pressed her lips together. "I think I've been hearing him for the last couple hours on and off."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Sam, I didn't believe it myself. I thought I was going insane, I mean, I didn't break the glass in the room. That wasn't me. That was Dean, he yelled 'shut up' right before I did. I heard him. So now that I know you hear it, what do we do?"

He licked at his lip. "I have an idea…stay with him, Bridge…I'll be right back."

She squeezed his hand letting it slide out of hers, "I'll be here."

She went into Dean's room, pulling up a chair next to his bed and running her fingers through her hair. "We both heard you, Dean. We're going to fix this. Somehow we will…"

She tapped her fingers on her sketchbook and opened it, flipping through the pages, hoping to find that she and drawn something that was going to help. She paused on the drawing of the man in the summoning circle, head down as if defeated, Yellow Eyes smiling broadly and her mouth fell open, her blood ran cold. The man in the picture had his arm in a sling… "_You're gonna summon the demon. You care more about killing this demon than saving your own son"_ Sam had said earlier when she walked in. Sam had thought John was going to summon him and kill the demon…but he was wrong, the picture she drew proved that. She ripped it out of her sketchbook and hurried down the hall, praying she wasn't too late. He was still in his room, back turned to her as he set the plastic bag on the bed.

Bridget stood awkwardly in the room, her eyes filled with tears and a sad look across her face, fidgeting with the folded paper in her hands, the one she had drawn just three days ago. She now knew what it meant and she wasn't wrong.

John turned around, sensing her there. "Bridget, hey…what's wrong?"

She shook her head, "You can't do it, John…"

"Do what?"

"You just can't do it…"

"What is it?"

She filled in the gap between them and unfolded the drawing, handing it to him. It was the one of a man she now knew to be John due to the sling in a circle and the Yellow Eyed Demon standing there with him, a grin on his face. "You can't do this…please. I know you plan to, I wouldn't have drawn it otherwise…but you can't…we need you…"

John looked defeated, his secret out. "You can't stop me, Bridget…"

"I know…but I'll try…you just…you can't do this. You can't make a deal with that bastard."

"I have to."

"No, you don't."

"Dean will die," he said and Bridget winced at the words, knowing he was right. "I can't let my son die. I'll do anything, even if it means making a deal with the devil."

She nodded her head, understanding. "I thought I'd at least try…but even I know that everything I draw happens. I drew the car crash…I drew Yellow Eyes…I drew you making the deal and…" tears fell from her eyes. She couldn't bring herself to say she drew him dead, that would be the final outcome of the deal and they both knew it. "I didn't tell Sam and I don't plan to…so…you go make your deal, save your son for all of us and I promise, we will kill him for you."

John handed her the drawing back and she tucked it in her hand. He pulled her into a hug and Bridget steeled herself not to cry but couldn't help the shuddering breath she took that caused more tears to spill.

"Hey, none of that," he said and backed away enough to look at her. "It'll be okay, honey."

"How is any of this okay or fair? I get pictures that I can't stop from happening, people I care for and love always die. None of this is fair…I can't save anyone I love, I can't have a normal life in the abnormality of it all."

"Stop that," he told her and she sniffled. "I can't explain your gifts, but they're strong enough and mean enough that Yellow Eyes won't kill you, not that he can," he said and gestured at her necklace. "Not while Will and your brother died for you. You can't save everyone, but you can fight like hell to keep them, even when it means sacrificing everything…and you can have a normal life in the chaos that we call ours," he reassured her. "You will someday…maybe not with Sam…but you never know…you'll be okay, Bridget."

She shook her head slightly and hugged him again, tears still coming down her face. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you or Dean. I really wanted us all to be like a family despite things, you guys are all I have left and after Derek and Will died I swore I wouldn't bury any more people I loved because of a demon and now…"

"Oh, Bridget…it's okay. It's okay, sweetheart…you're the toughest girl I know and I have been privileged to know you these last four years. I know I'm leaving my boys in good hands with you," he moved her back again with a sad smile and wiped the tears from her eyes with his good hand before settling it on her shoulder. "I'm honored to have had you in my life."

"Ditto," she added with a partial sob and then sniffled, composing herself. She took a deep breath. "Be careful..."

"I will…" he picked up the bag of contents from the bed and hugged her one last time.

Bridget didn't look watch but couldn't help calling out to him before he left. "Hey John?" she could feel him pause. "If…if you see my brother and Will…can you…" she paused not knowing what to say.

"I will, Bridge…take care of yourself and my boys…" and with that she heard him leave the room. A few more tears spilled down her cheek as she ripped up the drawing in her hand and threw it in the trash can down the hall before going back to sit with Dean, another friend she couldn't save.

* * *

Bridget had enough time to gather herself before Sam got back to the room, carrying a plastic bag in his hand and closing the door behind him. She frowned reading the name Target on it.

"What did you go to Target for?"

"Well, for one, I thought you might want a new shirt," he said and pulled out a red spaghetti strap top. She took it, looking down at her dirty blood stained blue shirt.

She grabbed the edges of her shirt and paused, looking at Dean's unconscious form. Didn't mean he wasn't in here watching.

"What?" Sam asked, noticing her hesitate. "Do you need me to turn around?"

She smiled at his good boy nature, "No…it's just, well Dean might be around and he can still see."

"Oh, he can't be that much of an ass," Sam reassured her.

"Yeah right," she said and stripped off the shirt, throwing it to the trash can and adjusting the straps of her black bra. She heard a whistle and knew it wasn't Sam. She shook her head with a chuckle. "Asshole."

"What?"

"Dean whistled," she told him, pulling the top on.

Sam rolled her eyes, talking to Dean. "Can't you have a little respect?"

"What's in the bag?"

He pulled out the Ouija board and even Bridget scoffed, she could almost hear Dean do it too. "He thinks this is ridiculous."

"He spoke?" Sam asked hopeful.

"Well, yeah, a little. He's imprinting on me in a way. The board will help, I can't completely hear him."

Sam put the board on the floor and Bridget sat across from him, putting her fingers on the planchette. "This is almost too stupid," she muttered.

"We need to try," he sighed. "Dean, are you here?"

_Yeah_

"He said yeah but I could've told you that since he whisteled," Bridget said.

"Dean, will you just move the damn thing," Sam said.

Bridget heard a grumbling noise mixed with words she couldn't quite hear. It moved to yes.

_I'll be damned_.

"He's in disbelief that it even worked," she said, surprised as well.

Sam sighed in relief, "It's good to hear from you, man. It hasn't been the same without you."

"Really? Cuz I feel like I need to change my name to Odemay Brown," Bridget said.

_Damn straight_

"Someone's full of themselves," she snorted.

The planchette moved to spell out hunting. "Are you hunting?" Sam asked and it moved to yes. "Dean, it's a hospital, what are you hunting? Do you know what it is?"

_One question…_she heard faintly.

"He says one question at a time," reminded Bridget.

"Sorry…what is it?"

The planchette moved spelling out reaper.

"A reaper," Sam said. "Dean, is it after you?"

It moved to yes.

"Shit…" Bridget cursed. "That must have been what he was telling to get back."

"You can't kill death," Sam mumbled.

_Screwed…_

"He says he's screwed," Bridget said still finding it all too freaky to hear her comatose friend.

"There's gotta be a way," Sam shook his head. "Dad'll know what to do."

He stood up and walked past Bridget. She scrambled to her feet with wide eyes. "Where are you going?"

"To talk to my dad."

She felt her heart skip a beat, "We can figure this out. Can't be that hard."

"My Dad will know how to stop this though," he said and walked down the hall.

Bridget waited, trying to remain calm and act like she knew nothing and sat next to Dean.

Sam came back in a minute later. "He wasn't in his room," he said confused and sat next to her and Dean. He set the journal on the bed. "But I grabbed the journal. Maybe there's something in here…"

Five minutes later they were at a dead end and Sam closed it, running a hand through his hair. "Is Dean here?"

Bridget listened and heard nothing, no breeze blew across her. "I don't feel him here…"

Sam nodded and looked at Dean in the bed, "We don't know how to help you but we'll keep trying if you keep fighting," he chuckled a bit. "I mean, come on, you can't leave me here with Dad, we'll kill each other or Bridget will kill both of us," she winced and touched her necklace knowing exactly what John was doing, knowing very soon Dean would be alive and all right. "Dean, you gotta hold on. You can't go, man, not now. We were just startin' to be brothers again…can you hear me?"

Bridget's necklace flared against her, causing a gasp to escape her just as Dean awoke, gagging on the tube in his throat causing Sam to jump back and head for the door in the hall. "Help! I need help in here!"

She closed her eyes as a nurse came in to remove the tube, it was over. It was done and she couldn't feel any worse about it.

* * *

The doctor was shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't explain it. The edema's vanished. The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good. You've got some kind of angel watching over you."

Bridget snorted from her chair. Devil was more like it.

"Thanks, Doc," Dean said and he left the room. He eyed Sam. "So you said a reaper was after me?"

"Yeah."

"How'd I ditch it?" Dean asked.

"You got me," Sam shrugged. "Dean, you really don't remember anything?"

"No…," Bridget sighed in relief at that. "Except this pit in my stomach. Sam, something's wrong."

John walked in and Bridget tried to keep a poker face. "How you feelin', dude?"

"Fine, I guess. I'm alive," Dean said.

"That's what matters," said John and glanced at Bridget who couldn't bring herself to look at him.

"Where were you last night?" Sam asked.

"I had some things to take care of," John answered and Bridget felt her throat tighten.

"Well, that's specific," Sam scoffed.

"Come on, Sam," Dean said with a warning.

"Did you go after the demon?" Sam asked unrelenting.

"No," John lied.

"You know, why don't I believe you?"

John smiled a bit sadly. "Can we not fight? You know, half the time we're fightin', I don't know what we're fightin' about. We're just buttin' heads. Sammy, I…I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't wanna fight anymore."

Sam frowned, "Dad, are you all right?"

"Yeah…yeah. I'm just tired…hey Sam, would you mind getting; me a cup of caffeine?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure," he nodded and Bridget saw the tears in John's eyes as Sam left. Bridget could no longer stop her own eyes from tearing up.

"What is it?" Dean asked noticing the sadness in both of them.

"You know," John said. "When you were a kid…I'd come home from a hunt. And after what I'd seen, I'd be wrecked. And you'd…come up to me and you'd put your hand on my shoulder and you'd look me in the eye, and you'd…" his voice broke as a couple tears fell. "You'd say, 'It's okay, Dad'. Dean, I'm so sorry."

"For what?" he asked, scared now. He looked at Bridget. "Bridge, what is it?"

"This has nothing to do with her, she just already knows…but you shouldn't have had to say that to me. I should've been sayin' that to you. You know, I put…I put too much on your shoulders, I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sammy, and you took care of me. You did that. And you didn't complain, not once," a tear fell down his face. "I just want you to know…that I am so proud of you." His bottom lip quivered as he nearly broke down and Bridget was fighting so hard to keep from crying.

"Is this really you talkin'?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's me."

"Why are you sayin' this stuff?"

He put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "I want you to watch out for Sammy, okay? The both of you."

"Yeah, Dad. You know we will but you're scaring me."

"Don't be scared, Dean," he leaned in and whispered to Dean what Bridget already knew about Sam and she saw the shocked look on his face that had been on hers. He looked at his father who nodded and turned to leave. He put his hand on Bridget's shoulder, "Don't follow me…and I won't forget to tell them."

She closed her eyes as a sob escaped her. His hand left her shoulder and she leaned her head in her hands. She felt Dean touch her hair. "Bridge, what's goin' on?"

"I don't know…I just know what you know about Sam. He told me earlier," she said partially lying.

"What do we do?"

"Exactly what your dad said because things are only going to get worse…we just need to stick together."

"We will…all of us."

The siren blared a moment later and Dean sat up watching nurse and doctors hurry down the hall. "Isn't that where Dad's room is?"

Bridget said nothing and would have stayed where she was had Dean not grabbed her hand pulling her along with him. Sam was just outside the room, watching with tears in his eyes as Dean stopped next to him, a look of horror on his face. Bridget moved to the wall, catching a glimpse of the doctor's trying to save John but knew it would be impossible. She slid down the wall, crying, leaning her head onto her knees as she listened to the flatline. "Time of death 10:41 a.m."

She wrapped her arms around her legs, things had just gotten worse and she never felt so helpless in her life.


	18. S2 Everyone Loves a Clown

**Disclaimer: The show continues...:)**

**Note: The waywarddaughter: funny you should say that :)...keep reading. I have up to season 3 done already  
**

**S2 E24 EVERYBODY LOVES A CLOWN **

It was dark and cold despite the fire that was blazing in front of them. Or maybe it just felt so cold because the reason the fire was burning was to cremate John Winchester's body. Bridget stood between the brothers, her hand held tight within Sam's. She could barely feel him squeezing her fingers, she felt so numb watching her friend burn, knowing he died to save Dean and knowing he was going to do it before he even did but he had asked her not to stop him, to let him do this, and she had. She let him die. She knew Sam was crying, she could feel it in the way his body trembled and Dean was staring into the fire, a complete mask of no emotional heed.

"Before…before he…" he paused trying to not sob. "Did he say anything? About anything?"

Bridget felt Dean tense on her other side as she too went over her last conversation with John. Sam couldn't know what they did. "No," Dean said. "Nothing."

She turned her head slightly to Dean to see a single tear roll down his cheek. With very slow cautious movement she reached for his hand, taking it in hers. He didn't reject it and for that she was thankful. They were the last two people she had in the world, and she refused to lose either of them.

* * *

Bridget stretched out on the lounge seat in her black and white bikini, feet dangling in the plastic pool. This was not what she had in mind when she said she needed a vacation. She surveyed the junk cars and strewn about car parts, the plastic blue pool her feet rested in was not the twelve foot deep crystal clear one she had in mind. But they'd been at Bobby's for a week and she had to admit she was feeling a whole lot better with very few picture dreams in between and not so much as a twitch from her necklace.

She stared down at the sketch over her sunglasses that she had finished of a clown and turned the page to look at one of the bar she had drawn that she never heard of. The Road House. A shadow blocked out her light and she tilted her eyes up to see Sam staring own at her, one of his legs over each side of hers. He was doing much better than she expected. He had grieved three days straight and she lain in bed with him, comforting him as best as she could and whenever he fell asleep she would go find Dean and sit with him for an hour, watching TV and drinking a beer. But after three days Sam seemed more himself and even she felt more like herself. And then, just the other night, they had had a wild night he had surprised her by initiating. Bobby eventually knocked on the door, telling them to keep it down and both had laughed until they couldn't breathe.

She smiled up at Sam, closing her sketchbook and setting it aside. "Draw anything interesting?"

"Nothing that makes any sense unless you like clowns."

He shivered visibly despite the heat. "Not really. I know this isn't the vacation you had in mind."

She rubbed the inside of his calf with her foot, "Oh, I'd say it's gone pretty well so far…now the pool is a little disappointing, but I'll live."

"Really?" he looked over his shoulder at it. "I think it's great. Water's clear at least."

She snorted, adjusting her halter strap. "Yeah, it'll do."

He bent down closer to her, the bottom of his shorts brushing her legs as he braced his arms on either side of her. She had to remember to breathe when she saw the muscles in his biceps flex. His lips came close to hers and she saw that sexy up to no good smile come across his face, "I think we can make it work."

"Really?" she said back, curious now more than ever.

"Uh huh," he kissed her and it was full of a lot of promise for later. His hands grabbed her arms and he let gravity pull him back and both splashed into the little pool. Bridget laughed and looked at him through her wet speckled sunglasses. Sam removed them, tossing them on the chair and kissed her again while she giggled into his mouth, noticing it was hard to fit a 6'4 grown boy into a kiddie pool, his legs were hanging clear out and he was only partially wet. She sat up, straddling his waist and removing the t-shirt he had on. Now she had to remember to breathe because his body always robbed her of her voice. It was too perfect, too tan, too well muscled. She smashed her mouth onto his, consumed by the lust and complete desire for him. He responded by pulling her tighter to him, kissing her harder. She gasped into his mouth, her nails raking his arm, the other trailing down his chest.

"Get a room you two, sheesh," Bobby said as he walked by carrying a bag of groceries. "Don't make me get the damn hose."

Bridget laughed, pulling away from Sam and moving her hair out her face to look up at Bobby, "Sorry, Bobby."

"Glad to see you two are feelin' better."

"Much better," Sam nodded.

"Yeah, I can hear how much better," he shook his head and went inside.

Bridget looked back at Sam who finally couldn't contain his laughter. She fell against his chest in giggles, trying to catch her breath. She finally straightened up after a full minute went by, "We better go check on Dean, see how he's coming along with the car…but we are finishing this later."

"Oh, definitely," he said and took his shirt back from her. Bridget slid her denim skirt on over her bikini bottoms and put a tank top over her bikini then slid on her sandals walking hand in hand with Sam to the back of the house. Dean's legs were sticking out from under the Impala and she bent down to look. "How's it goin'?"

"Slow," he grumbled from below.

"Yeah. Need any help?" Sam volunteered.

"What, you under a hood? I got better luck with Bridget."

"Need anything else then?" Sam asked.

Dean slid out from under the car, "Stop it, Sam."

"Stop what?"

"Stop askin' if I need anything, stop askin' if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise."

"Okay, Dean. It's just we've been here a week and you haven't brought up Dad once."

"You know what, you're right," Dean said and threw down the wrench. Bridge took a step back and shook her head knowing he was going to get that stupid humor. "Come here. I'm gonna lay my head on your shoulder and cry, maybe we can hug too."

"Don't patronize me, Dean, Dead is dead! The Colt is gone and it seems pretty damn likely the demon is behind all of this, and you're actin' like nothing happened."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Say something, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day buried beneath this damn car!"

"Revenge huh?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

"Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Are you makin' heads or tails of any of Dad's research? 'Cause I sure ain't but you know what, when we finally do find it – on no, wait. Like you said, the Colt is gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothin', Sam. Nothin', okay? So you know what? The only thing I can do is work on the car."

"We do have something, dean," Bridget took the phone out of her bag. "It's one of your Dad's old phones. Sam cracked the voicemail code last night. Listen," she handed it to Sam who plugged in the code.

"_John, it's Ellen…again. Look, don't be stubborn. You know I can help you. Call me_."

"That message is four months old," Bridget said.

"Dad saved this chicks message for four months?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"Well, who's Ellen? Any mention of her in Dad's journal?"

"No. But I ran a trace and got an address."

* * *

They pulled up to the bar in the riggidy van Bobby leant them and Bridget opened her sketchbook up staring at her drawing then at the bar. It was a match.

"This is humiliating," Dean grumbled. "I feel like a freakin' soccer mom!"

"It's the only car Bobby had running," Sam said and got out of the minivan.

"We're on the right track though," she handed the sketchbook to Dean who showed Sam.

"Do you know anything else?" Sam asked her.

She shook her head, putting it back in her shoulder bag and in the car. "Nope, just that whatever I draws means we're on the right track to something else and these things need to happen…" she trailed off, remembering when John had told her exactly that a week ago. "We better see if anyone is here."

Sam nodded and walked around the outside, "Hello? Anybody here?"

Dean sighed, "Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?" he paused.

Dean pointed at the door, "Did you bring the tools?"

"Of course," he reached into his jacket and tossed him the lock picking set.

Dean popped the lock and opened the door. It was empty and quiet and Bridget frowned, noticing a man sleeping on the pool table. Sam poked at him, "Hey buddy?" he continued snoring.

"I'm guessing that's not Ellen," Bridget said and kept looking around. "Hello?"

Sam went into the other room and she stayed in the bar area with Dean. "So you're not gonna ask me how I am?" Dean said.

"Why would I?"

"Because Sammy does every hour."

"I don't ask because I know you, Dean. Same reason you don't ask me, because when I want to talk about it, I'll talk about it. You're the same way. When you wanna talk, I'll listen because I don't ask questions," she told him.

He nodded his head, "Smart girl." Dean froze when he felt the shot gun pointed at his back or at least he hoped. "God, please let that be a rifle."

Bridget had froze as well, standing a few feet from Dean. "Yeah, it's a rifle held but a pissed off blonde girl."

"No, I'm just real happy to see you," she said sarcastically.

"Judging by attitude I say she's seventeen or eighteen," Bridget guessed.

"Nineteen, Hood Rat," she growled.

Bridget rolled her eyes, "I'll act like that's original."

"Neither of you move," she ordered.

"Not movin'," Dean nodded. "Copy that. You know, you should know somethin', Miss. When you put a rifle on someone, you don't wanna rest it against their back. 'Cause it makes it real easy to do," Dean wheeled around, swiping the gun from her hand, "that."

The girl punched him in the face and she grabbed the gun back. "Sam! Need some help here. I can't hit a girl."

Bridget had moved around when Dean was talking to the blonde and twisted the gun from her. The girl turned to hit her and Bridget grabbed her wrist, spinning her around and twisting the arm behind her back, dropping her to her knees. "I can do it though. Now, sweety, if you try moving even an inch you're going to break your arm in two places and dislocate it from your shoulder, so I'd stay real still if I were you."

Sam entered the room and Bridget looked up to see him with his hands on his heads and an older blonde woman with a gun on him. Definitely this girl's mother.

"Let go of my daughter or I shoot this one," she ordered.

Bridget tossed the gun on an empty table and let the girl go. She scrambled to her feet with a pissed off look of bring out done.

"Sorry Dean, but I got held up," Sam said.

"It'd okay, Bridget took care of it for you," Dean said, rubbing at his nose.

Ellen looked stunned. "Sam? Dean? Bridget?" she looked at the boys."Winchester?"

They nodded. "Yeah."

"Son of a bitch," she said dropping the gun down.

"Mom, you know them?" the blonde girl asked.

"Yeah, they're John Winchester's boys and this is Bridget, she's been hunting with John for a few years now. I'm Ellen, this is my daughter, Jo."

Jo nodded, "Hey."

"You're not gonna hit me again are you?" Dean asked cautiously.

"Let's all get a seat," Ellen said and put some chairs down around a table. Bridget sat next to Sam and Ellen while Dean sat on the other side of Sam.

Dean got right to the point. "So you called our Dad and said you could help – help with what?"

"Well…the demon, of course. I heard he was closing in on it," said Ellen.

"Was there an article in _Demon Hunter's Weekly_ that I missed? I mean, who are you? How do you know about all this?"

"Hey, I just run a bar. But hunters have been known to pass through now and then, including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once."

"Oh, yeah. How come he's never mentioned you before?"

"You'd have to ask him that," she said and Dean winced slightly.

Bridget took up the next question to give him time, "So why exactly do we need your help?"

"Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if…he didn't send you," she realized and noticed none of them were looking at her. "He _is_ all right, isn't he?"

Bridget looked at the other two, saw the hurt and pain. "No, he isn't. The demon got him a little over a week ago…he died."

"Jesus…" she whispered sadly. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Dean nodded. "We're all right."

"Nothing new for some of us," Bridget forced a smile.

"Really. I know how close you and your dad were Dean."

"Really, lady, I'm fine," Dean snapped a little.

"So, look, if you can help…we could use all the help we can get."

"Well, we can't," she gestured at her and her daughter. "But Ash can?"

"Who's Ash?" Bridget asked.

"Ash!" Ellen yelled, turning in her chair to look at the pool table the guy was sleeping up. He sat up startled wearing a checkered shirt with the sleeves cut off and his hair was in a long mullet.

"What? Closin' time?" he asked with a southern accent.

Sam looked skeptical. "That's Ash?"

Jo nodded, "Mm hmm. He's a genius."

"So you say…" Bridget muttered.

Dean shook his head joining Ash at the bar where he now sat perched on a stool. "You've gotta be kidding me. This guy is no genius. He's a Lynrd Skynrd roadie."

Ash chuckled, "I like you."

"Thanks."

"Just give him a chance," Jo said.

Dean rolled his eyes, sliding the folder to Ash who opened it and started looking through it. "All right," Sam said. "This stuff is about a year's worth of our Dad's work, so…let's see what you can make of it."

"Come on," Ash snorted. "This crap ain't real. Ain't nobody can track a demon like this.

"Our dad could," Dean said.

Ash sighed, "These are nonparametric statistical overviews, cross spectrum correlations. I mean…damn. They're signs…omens. If you can track 'em, you can track this demon – you know, like crop failures, electrical storms. You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun."

"Can you track it or not?" Bridget asked.

"Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time. Uh, give me…," he paused calculating in his head. "Fifty-one hours." He gathered the paper, walking away and leaving them stunned.

Dean turned to him, "Hey, man."

Ash paused and turned around. "Yeah?"

"By the way, I, uh…dig the haircut."

He tossed his hair. "All business up front, party in the back." He left the room and Sam noticed a folder on the counter next to Ellen.

"Hey, Ellen, what's that?"

"It's a police scanner. We keep tabs on things -."

"No, no, no, the folder."

She picked it up. "Uh, I was gonna give this to a friend of mine, but take a look at it if you want."

"Thanks," Sam took the folder and opened it up.

Dean sighed, "I'm gonna go find out more about this place from the girl."

"She's like eight years younger than you, keep that in mind," Bridget warned him.

"Yeah yeah," he said and walked to a booth where Jo sat.

She turned to Sam once he called her name. "Hey, Bridge…didn't you say you drew a drawing of a clown?"

"Uh huh, why?"

"Read this. Tell me what you think."

She read down the file and pursued her lips, "Not sure we have costumes for this and what about it."

"It's a hunt."

She sighed, "A hunt…already…Sam, it's not the demon."

"I know that, I don't expect it to be but we can't sit around and do nothing."

"What happened to relaxing?"

"We've relaxed enough."

"Says you," she snorted and leaned her head on her hand.

"You drew a clown and you even said that your pictures are where we have to go. I mean, you drew the Road House and we came here found Ash and now we find a file about a clown and you drew a clown. It's the next lead to what we're supposed to do."

She sighed, "All right…I guess it's something. We have fifty-one hours to waste anyway."

Sam looked at Ellen, "We'll take this case."

Bridget shook he head at his eagerness, "Hey Dean, come here."

He ambled back over to them from the booth he had been in. "Yeah?"

Sam slid him the file, "A few murders not far from here that Ellen caught wind of – looks to me like there might be a hunt."

"Yeah, so?" he shrugged.

"So, I told her we'd check it out."

Dean exchanged a look with Bridget and sighed as well, "Okay, we'll go look at it."

* * *

Dean shook his head as he drove, it was already dark out. "You've gotta be kiddin' me. A killer clown?"

"That's what I said," Bridget agreed.

"Yeah, but he left the daughter unharmed and the killed the parents – ripped them to pieces, actually."

"And this family was at some carnival that night?"

"Right, the Cooper carnival."

"Oh God, I have to be a Carne?" Bridget groaned.

"Not yet," Dean warned. "So how do we know we're not dealin' with some psycho in a clown suit?"

"Well, the cops have no visible leads, and all the employees were tearin' down shop – alibis all around. Plus, the girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma. And, if that's not enough, Bridget had a picture dream of a clown, it's in her sketch book."

"That true?" Dean asked.

Bridget groaned, "Yes…sadly."

Dean smirked ay Sam, "I know what you're thinkin', Sam. Why'd it have to be clowns?"

"Give me a break,' he rolled his eyes.

"You didn't think I'd remember, did you? I mean, come on, you still burst out cryin' whenever you see Ronald McDonald on the TV."

"At least I'm not afraid of flying," Sam growled.

"Planes crash!" Dean argued.

"And apparently clowns kill," Sam countered.

Dean didn't have a comeback to that, "So, these type of murders – they ever happen before?"

"Uh, according to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers circus. Same M.O. – it happened three different times, three different locales."

"That's weird though," Bridget frowned. "I mean, if it is a spirit, its usually bound to a specific locale – a house or town."

"So how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?"

"Cursed object, maybe?" Dean suggested. "Spirit attaches itself to something, and the carnival carries it around with them."

"Great," Sam grumbled. "A paranormal scavenger hunt."

"This case was your idea," Dean reminded him. "By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job."

"So?"

"It's just not like you, that's all. I thought you were hell bent for leather on the demon hunt."

"I don't know. I just think taking this job – it's what Dad would have wanted us to do."

"What Dad would have wanted?" Dean repeated and she heard the edge in his voice.

"Yeah. So?" Sam asked.

"Nothin," Dean shook his head.

They all knew that was a lie, it was definitely something.

* * *

The next day they pulled up in the carnival lot and Bridget hung up her cell phone as they got out. "There were two more murders last night. Apparently, they were ripped to shreds and they had a little boy with them."

"Was it a clown?" Sam asked.

She sighed, "That question still bothers me, but yes a clown that vanished into thin air."

"You know we're lookin' for a cursed object – it's like tryin' to find a certain needle in a stack of needles. It could be anything."

"Well, its bound to give off EMF, so we'll just have to scan everything," Dean said.

"Oh, good. That's nice an inconspicuous," Sam said sarcastically.

Dean pointed to a HELP WANTED sign, "Guess we'll just have to blend in."

They walked around and saw a gentleman wearing sunglasses throwing knives at a wall, "Excuse me," Dean said to I'm. "We're lookin' for Mr. Cooper. Have you seen him around?"

The guy became upset, "What is that – some kind of joke?" he removed his sunglasses showing he was blind.

Dean looked taken a back. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't-."

"You think I wouldn't give anything to see anything," he said angrily.

Dean looked at Sam and Bridget, "Wanna give me a little help here?"

Sam shook his head with a smile, "Not really."

"I think you got it covered," Bridget grinned.

A small person came out of the tent, "Hey, Barry, is there a problem?"

"Yeah, this guy hates blind people," Barry jerked his thumb at Dean.

"Hey, buddy, what's your problem?"

"Nothing, it's just a little misunderstanding," Dean said.

"Little? Son of a bitch," the short guy growled.

"No, no, no! Could somebody please tell me where to find Mr. Cooper?" Dean asked as Bridget and Sam were cracking up. "Please."

Luckily they were saved by an older gentleman with hair turning white who was Mr. Cooper. He took them into his office, "You three picked a hell of a time to join up. Take a seat. We got all kinds of local trouble." There were three chairs, one a regular table chair, one an office chair and one shaped like a clown. Bridget knocked Dean out of the way, sitting in the office chair and he quickly took the regular one. Sam sat uncomfortable in the clown chair.

"What do you mean?" Bridget asked.

"A couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first. So, you three ever work for a circuit before?"

"Uh, yes, sir –last year through Texas and Arkansas" Sam lied.

"Doing what?" Cooper asked.

"Little bit of everything, I guess," Dean said.

He paused a moment with a slow smile, "You three have never worked a show on your lives before, have you?"

"Nope," Dean spoke the truth. "But we really need the work…and Sam here has a thing for the bearded lady."

"You see that picture," Cooper pointed to a photo next to him. "That's my Daddy."

"You look just like him," Bridget acknowledged. It was uncannily similar.

"He was in this business – ran a freak show til they outlawed 'em most places. Apparently, displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So, most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess. You see, this place is a refuge for outcasts, always has been, for folks who don't fit in nowhere else. But you three…you should go to school, find someone to be with, have 2.5 kids – live regular."

"Sir," Sam said sitting forward. "We don't want to go to school. And we don't regular. We want this."

Dean looked at him curiously.

"You can have normal lives though," Cooper said.

Bridget cut him off, "Look sir, I had a normal life years ago and it was taken from me. I haven't been normal in years, in fact, I don't think I ever was normal and neither are these two. You said this place is a refuge for outcast, for people who don't fit in – trust me, we can't be anymore outcasted than we already are."

He pursued his lips and nodded, "Okay then…you start tomorrow…welcome aboard."

The three walked out a couple minutes later. Dean still looking perplexed.

"Huh," he mumbled.

"What?" Sam asked.

"That whole, uh, 'I don't wanna go back to school' thing – you just sayin' that to Cooper or were you…you know, sayin' it?"

Sam shrugged, "I don't know…"

"You don't know? I thought that once this demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State?"

"I'm havin' second thoughts," Sam said.

"Really?" Bridget asked intrigued.

"Yeah, I think…Dad would have wanted me to stick with my job."

"Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted? You spent half your life doin' exactly what he didn't want, Sam?" Dean said in anger.

"Since he died," Sam yelled back. "Okay? You have a problem with that?"

Dean shook his head, "No, I don't have a problem at all."

Bridget let out a deep breath and gestured to where Dean had run off too, "I'm gonna go talk to him."

"You always run off to him," Sam scoffed.

She held her hand up, "Don't start with me, okay? Because we both know your brother is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode, Sam. You're emotionally stronger than he is because you vent, he doesn't, I don't have to worry about you breaking down right now…and I'm the only one he can talk to."

"Yeah, why's that?" Sam asked challenging.

"Because it's like your Dad said to me in the hospital, me and Dean are a lot a like and he trusts me because of that. You can go wait by the van while I go find him," she turned and walked back into the carnival. She didn't have to look long, she found him sitting on a bench near the ferris wheel. She sat next to him, crossing her legs.

"Don't start questioning me…"

"You already know I won't," she said simply.

Dean stared down at his hands, "Sam send you to look for me?"

"No I did it on my own, imagine that? A girl who can think for herself? I am a rarity after all."

"Smart ass."

"Takes one to know one," she stuck her tongue at him.

He chuckled and his smile faded a bit, "Does he intentionally try to piss me off?"

"No, he's just doing what he thinks your dad would have wanted."

"Since when does he care…"

"Since your dad died, Deano…he feels guilty because he always defied him and now he figures this is the only way to redeem himself, by doing what your dad wanted. He doesn't mean to hurt you with it or upset you. You gotta remember, he's not like us, Dean. This, even now, is still new to him, he's still adjusting while we've always been a part of it. He's just trying to help out."

Dean turned his head to look at her, "I hate it when you're right, you know."

"You must hate me a lot of the time then," she teased, nudging him with her hip.

"No, I don't think I ever hated you," he said and the tone made Bridget look away swiftly, spotting the ferris wheel.

She tapped his arm, "Come on, I know what will make you feel better."

"What? A lap dance?" he teased and she rolled her eyes dragging him to the ride and hiding the guy two dollars. Dean looked somewhat panicked. "Uhh…I-I'm not a big fan of heights."

"You'll be fine," she said as the wheel spun moving them up to the top. Dean was gripping the bar for dear life in panic. It stopped at the top shaking a bit and she laughed as he cursed from the seat rocking. "It's supposed to do that, Dean, you're fine."

"This is, uh, a little high up."

"Here," she moved his hand from the death grip on the bar and slid her hand in his. "There. That way if you fall to your death you get to take me with you."

"Oh, please don't say that," he shook his head.

She laughed, "Calm down, you're okay."

He squeezed her hand tighter and took a deep breath, calming himself before noticing he was holding her hand, reminding him of just before the crash. "I never said thank you."

"For what?" she asked puzzled.

"For stayin' with me in the car, holdin' my hand, talkin' to me. I'm betting you did that in the hospital too."

She nodded, "Yeah, well…not like you weren't there…"

"Huh?"

"You don't remember, but you were…talking to me. Like your soul was out of your body roaming the hospital and I could hear you when you talked. I was the only one who could."

"Huh? Why?"

She shrugged, "You dad said it was because we're alike or something like that. I don't know, but I had help from you in fixing things…though it doesn't feel like anything was fixed…" she took a deep breath and smiled. "But you're alive and we're hunting a killer clown and life is weird again so, in essence, everything is back to normal."

He chuckled, "As normal as they can be…and hey, Bridge?"

"Hmm?"

"You're not an outcast, you'll always belong here with me," he said and she found herself unable to look away from his eyes. They stared at each other another moment before the ride jerked and he swore, clutching her hand.

She snorted as he all but scrambled off once the bar was lifted. She followed him back to the car where Sam was waiting in the van, going over the file again. "Feeling better?" he asked Dean once he got in the driver's seat.

"Peachy," he said.

Sam turned his head to look at Bridget in the back seat and she gave him an okay sign. Because things were okay for now.

* * *

She did not feel okay the next day. In fact, she felt pissed off. Her carnie blouse was a size too small and the clothing department guy apologized to her with a grin as he handed it to her. She couldn't keep the top button done so her breasts were all but bursting out of her shirt. She thanked whatever God there was that she wore a black spaghetti strap underneath it. It gave her some dignity back.

Dean got a kick out of it, "Looks good on you."

"And my fist in your face will look good on you," she growled.

Sam grabbed her back by her arm, "You can do that later, let's just try and find that object."

Bridget nodded, glaring at Dean who continued to grin as they split up. She went with Sam towards the fun house and went inside the black lit room. Sam smiled at her, noticing her white blouse lit up, highlighting her chest. "You have no idea how hot that looks right now."

"What?"

He pointed and she looked down with a groan and roll of her eyes. "This is embarrassing, I'm gonna seriously kick that guys ass for-." She was cut off by Sam's sudden lips on hers and forgot her argument all together by the time he broke the kiss.

"Save this for later tonight," he told her with a promising smile.

"Maybe it's not so bad after all," she shrugged and followed his through the fun house with the EMF reader. She got nothing from anything she scanned and as a skeleton dropped down pathetically, Sam got nothing off it either. He shook his head at her as they left it, calling Dean on the phone and giving him the update or lack thereof.

He hung up, "Dean's gonna meet us here."

"Wanna go back in the fun house and fool around some more?" she asked with a smile.

"We got work to do," he said.

She pouted, "Spoil my fun."

"You'll get your fun later."

"I better after this job," she muttered. "And I'd like to go to a real beach with sand and surf. We need to find a case around Hawaii or something, I'll even take the Keys," Bridget said, watching a little girl and her family walk by.

Dean came to join them at that point.

"What took you so long?" Sam asked.

"Long story," Dean muttered.

The little girl Bridget was watching pointed at something to the right. "Mommy, look a clown."

The mother turned to look and Bridget even followed to where the girl was pointing. There was nothing there. "What clown?" her mom asked. "Come on, sweetie. Come on."

The three exchanged a look. "Did either of you see a clown?" Bridget asked.

Dean shook his head, "Nothin' there…"

"Think we just found the next victim," Sam said.

* * *

It was dark out and Bridget through her burger wrapper back in the bag and handing it to Sam to put his own garbage in. They were camped out in the van outside the little girl's home, waiting to see what would happen. Reminded her of old times.

"Dean, I cannot believe you told Barry about the homicidal clown," Sam said in disbelief.

"I told him an urban legend about a homicidal clown. I never said it was real," he said, throwing away his wrappers and grabbing his shot gun.

Sam took the gun from him, "Put that down."

"Oh, and get this. I mentioned the Bunker Brothers Circus in '81 and their evil clown apocalypse. Guess what?"

"Ronald McDonald and Bozo worked for them?" Bridget guessed.

Dean rolled his eyes, "No."

"You said guess," she shrugged.

"Before Mr. Copper owned Cooper Carnival, he worked for Bunker Brothers. He was their lot manager."

"So you think whatever the spirit is attached to, Cooper just brought it with him?" Sam asked.

"Somethin' like that," he nodded and shook his head. "I can't believe we keep talkin' about clowns." He stretched and reclined his set back. "I'm gonna catch a few z's. Watch the house."

Bridget stretched out in the back, reading her book with a book light while Sam kept an eye on the house. Dean was snoring. "You know," Bridget mused. "We could always full around in the back here…"

"We're on a hunt, Bridge," Sam reminded her.

"No, reason we can't have fun," she said.

"Later," he told her.

She let out a sigh and went back to her book. Thirty minutes later Sam nudged her leg and she looked up from the pages, looking out the side window. The light in the living room was on. She shook Dean's shoulder. "Dean, check it out."

He sat up and they watched as the little girl opened the front door and a clown appeared in the living room. This was going to be a challenge as usual…

* * *

Saving the little girl had been the easy part, explaining it to the very pissed off parents was a bit more difficult. They never got the credit they deserved, just a lot of yelling and threats for saving their lives. They were now leaving the van by the side of the road the next day, removing the plates and taking what promised to be a very long walk.

"Well, one thing's for sure," Dean said as they walked with their bags.

"Besides the fact we have an awfully long walk and I'm wearing boots, what's that?" Bridget asked.

"We're not dealin' with a spirit. That rock salt hit somethin' solid."

"Yeah, a person?" Sam asked. "Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible."

"Yeah, and dresses up like clowns for kicks? Did it say anything in Dad's journal?"

"Nope," Sam said and took out his cell phone.

"Who you callin'?" Dean asked.

"Maybe Ellen or that Ash guy will know something. Hey, you think…uh…you think Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?"

"Ewwww," Bridget said at the mere thought.

"No way," Dean said.

"Then why didn't he tell us about her?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, maybe they had some sorta fallin' out."

"Yeah. You ever notice Dad had a fallin' out with just about everybody?" Sam asked and Dean was quiet. "Don't get all maudlin on me."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"I mean this strong, silent thing of yours. It's crap. I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talkin' about. This is Dad. I know how you felt about the man."

"You know what, back off, all right?" Dean said. "Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to-."

Sam cut him off, "No, no, no. That's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this but you _have_ to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay."

"Dude, I'm okay. I'm okay! I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm gonna start throwin' punches. These are your issues. Quit dumpin' 'em on me."

They stopped walking and Bridget stood back a bit, letting them deal with it. "What are you talkin' about?" Sam asked.

"I just think it's real interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like 'Oh, what would Dad want me to do?'. Sam, you spent your entire life sluggin' it out with that man. I mean, hell, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him, and now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry, Sam, but you can't. It's too little, too late."

"What are you sayin' this to me?" Sam asked.

"Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this! I'm dealin' with Dad's death! Are you?"

Sam paused for a long time, "I'm gonna call Ellen," he walked ahead and Dean watched him, rubbing the back of his neck. Bridget patted the side of the wooden fence she was leaning against and Dean joined her. "Please tell me that was right?"

"I think you had your points," she nodded. "But I think Sam did too."

Dean groaned, "Not you too."

"Yes, me too. You both need to deal. He was your Dad, that's hard, believe me I understand that. It is hard to lose someone you love, but you have to deal with it otherwise it'll fester and tear you apart, Dean. But we'll all be okay, we will."

He nodded, "What would we do without you?"

"Kill each other and go mad with insanity, not to mention get lost most of the time because you're directions are hell."

He chuckled as Sam came back to them, putting his phone back in his pocket. "Rakshasa."

"What did you just call me?" Dean asked.

Sam rolled his eyes, "It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures. They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited."

"They dress up like clowns, and children will let them in," Bridget pieced together.

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"Why don't they just munch on kids?" Dean asked.

"No idea. Not enough meat on the bones, I guess," Sam said.

"What else you find out?" Bridget asked.

"Well, apparently, rakshasas live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of dead insects."

Bridget scrunched her face in disgust, "Nice."

"Yeah, and they have to feed a few times every twenty to thirty years – slow metabolism," Sam added.

"That makes sense – the carnival today, the Bunker Brother in '81," said Dean.

"Right, probably more before that," nodded Sam in agreement.

"Sam, who do we know that worked for both shows?"

"Cooper."

Bridget nodded, "Cooper…you know I thought that picture of his father looked just like him."

"You think maybe it _was_ him?" Sam asked.

"Well, who knows how old he is," she said.

"Ellen say how to kill him?" Dean asked.

"Legend goes a dagger made of pure brass," Sam said.

"I think I know where to get one of those," said Dean.

"Well, before we go stabbin' things into Cooper, we're gonna make damn well sure it is him," Sam said.

"Oh, you're such a stickler for details, Sammy," Dean joked and Sam smiled. "All right, I'll round up the blade, you two go check if Cooper has a bed of bugs."

* * *

Bridget crouched down outside Cooper's trailer, Sam right next to her handing her the lock pick. She took the tools and jimmied open the door, handing them back to him. They stepped inside quietly and Bridget moved towards the bed, with a deep breath she pulled back the sheet. Nothing , just a normal bed.

"Not him after all," Sam mused and both froze when they heard the sound of a gun being cocked. They slowly turned around to see Cooper standing there.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Umm…" Sam muttered.

"I was looking for you actually," Bridget said. "Sorry, the door was unlocked so we just stepped in."

"What do you need?" he asked.

"I was wondering if I could possibly get a different job other than cleaning. Fred doesn't like me much, he's always giving me shirts that are too tight and then he's rude to me and crude all the time and it's uncomfortable."

He lowered the gun with a scoff. "That man, I'm gonna have to fire him. He always messes with the pretty girls, causes me to lose business…I'll fire him, get you a different job. I imagine you could make a lot of money in the game booths with your looks and all."

"Thank you, sir," she nodded and grabbed Sam's hand. "It was really bothering my boyfriend so we appreciate it and we're sorry we barged in when you weren't here."

They left the trailer in a hurry, bumping into Dean. "Hey!"

"Hey," Dean said skidding to a stop

"It's not Cooper," Sam said.

"Yeah, I gathered that. It's the blind guy. He's here somewhere," Dean said.

"Well, did you get the blades?" Bridget asked.

"No, it's just one of those days," Dean shrugged.

"I got an idea," Sam said suddenly, spotting the fun house. "Come on."

They went in and suddenly a set of doors closed, separating them.

"Sam! Bridge!" Dean shouted.

"Dean! Dean, find the maze, okay?" Bridget shouted and Sam grabbed her hand.

"Come on, the pipe organ," he said and they hurried to it, trying to remove one if the pipes.

Dean met up with them then, "Hey."

"Hey, where is it?" Bridget asked.

"I don't know. I mean, shouldn't we see his clothes walkin' around?" he asked and Bridget looked, ducking last minute with a gasp as a knife sailed past her, missing her by inches. Two of them pinned Dean to the wall. Sam pulled the pipe off and dodged the last one. Bridget stood back up, trying to pull the knives from his jacket with no luck.

"Where is it?" Sam asked.

"I don't know!" Dean said. He looked up and pulled the lever above his head. Steam hissed from the vents, creating an outline of the creature.

Bridget spotted it behind Sam. "Sam, behind you!"

He twisted around, shoving the pipe into the creature causing it to scream and fall to the ground dead. The knives fell from Dean's shirt and he and Bridget stood next to Sam. Dean shook his head, "I hate fun houses."

* * *

Bridget sat at the bar with Sam and Dean drinking a much needed beer after dealing with Bozo the killer freakin' knife throwing clown. Not to mention she was glad they finished working at the carnival. Although she kept the blouse for Sam. It would come in handy later.

"You guys did a hell of a job," Ellen said after serving a couple of the other hunters at the other table beers. "Your dad would be proud."

"Thanks," Sam said with a nod.

"Nothing to it really…just had to wear a skimpy top and get oogled at by an old guy then later get knives thrown at me by an invisible creature that has a knack for dressing like a clown…I'm scared to say that's a normal day," Bridget said with a shrug and Sam put his arm around her with a smile.

Jo came over and sat on the other side of Dean and Bridget drained the rest of her beer. She looked back and forth between Jo and Dean. Sam caught on and cleared his throat looking at Bridge. "Yeah, uhhh…why don't we just go…over there."

She patted his thigh. "Watching you kill that clown demon did make me kinda hot. Let's go start something you can finish over there…I'll even wear the blouse later," she grabbed his hand and he followed her a little too eagerly to Dean.

They stood by the pool table, watching Dean and Jo talk. "I think he likes her," Bridget said.

"I do too which means he won't go for it."

"Why not?"

"Because Dean knows he can't have a steady girlfriend in this life style without it becoming a problem later on. It'll end up being his weakness," Sam explained.

"Am I a problem?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

He shook his head with a small smile. "No, see. You're a hunter, you can stand on your own and take care of yourself, not only that but you got the back up for it," he touched her necklace. "Jo is young and thinks she knows but truth is, she's never hunted, she doesn't know. She doesn't understand but Dean does."

"That's…sad…I guess none us really get a normal life in the abnormality of it all."

"Guess not," Sam said.

Ash came in the room carrying a laptop with him and set it on the bar. Sam and Bridget came back over.

"Where you guys been? I been waitin' for you," Ash said wearing a blue sleeves checkered shirt today.

"We were working a job, Ash. Killer clown," Bridget told him.

"Clowns?" he frowned. "What the fu-."

"Did you get somethin' for us, Ash?" Dean interrupted.

"Did you find the demon?" Sam asked.

"It's nowhere around, at least nowhere I can find. But if this fugly bastard raises its head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like divine on dog dookie."

Bridget chuckled at the metaphor, gotta love John Waters.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"I mean any of those signs or omens appear anywhere in the world, my rig will go off like a fire alarm," he had several different programs open on his computer, a weather tracker was the only thing any of them recognized.

"Ash, where did you learn all this?" Bridget asked in awe.

"M.I.T., before I got bounced…for fighting," he shrugged.

"M.I.T.," Sam repeated.

"Yeah."

"Okay," Dean said patting Bridget and Sam on the back, indicting it was time to go. "Give us a call as soon as you know somethin'?"

"Si, senor," Ash nodded.

"Hey listen," Ellen said stopping them for a moment. "If you guys need a place to stay, I got a couple beds out back."

"Thanks, but no," Dean said. "There's somethin' I gotta finish."

"Okay," she nodded and they left.

* * *

Back at Bobby's Dean was working on the car and Sam was somewhere inside last she saw them. Bridget had been wandering around the immense junk yard with her sketch book in hand, drawing from a dream she had the previous night. Another vampire by the look of it, a blonde girl from what she could remember. She twisted the ring on her necklace, sitting on the back of a Mustang that was on blocks amongst the other graveyard of piled cars. She looked up at the blue sky that stretched further than she could imagine. She was never a big religious person, but her brother had been and for that purpose alone she wondered if he could see her, if any of them could. She clutched her necklace, they had to be if it reacted so strongly to her and Sam and Dean. She just hoped John was safe, that he was finally at peace with Mary and found that tranquility he could never have here. She hoped she'd find it before death herself because there were days things felt distant between her and Sam despite how much she loved him. It just felt like he pushed away some days.

The necklace warmed in her hand a little and she felt this sudden urge to head back towards where Dean was working on the Impala.

"Okay, Derek, I get the hint," she mumbled and slid off the car.

She paused hiding behind another van as she listened to Sam and Dean talk, it was a brother moment that she didn't need to interrupt. "You were right," Sam said.

"About what?" Dean asked.

"About me and Dad…I'm sorry that the last time I was with him, I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean, for all I know, he died thinkin' that I hate him. So, you're right. What I'm doin' right now – it's too little. It's too late," Sam paused and she knew he was close to tears. "I miss him, man. And I feel guilty as hell. And I'm not all right. Not at all…but neither are you. That much I know. I'll let you get back to work."

She peaked out from behind the van and saw Sam go back inside. She took another step out and jumped a little when Dean swung the tire iron suddenly at the window, shattering it. He moved and swung it over and over on the trunk, leaving a huge dent in it. He was breathing heavier and stopped, staring at it. As if sensing her he turned and looked at Bridget.

She stayed rooted, one hand on the van, the other holding her sketch book just watching him. There was no need for her to speak, no need for her to say anything. She waited for him to make the first move. She watched as he took a shuddering breath and the tire iron slipped from his hand. He leaned back on the trunk, hanging his head and she saw the tears fall to the dirt.

"_You're close to him…and he's always trusted you_," their dad had said to her.

Bridget moved closer to Dean, setting her sketch book on the trunk. She put a hand on Dean's shoulder and he leaned into her, crying harder as he clutched her close. She wrapped her arms around him and his legs gave sending them both to the dirt. He buried his head against her and she held him, stroking his hair, tears in her own eyes as he finally broke. Of all people, he broke to her. Not his brother of twenty-two years, but to her – a girl he'd known for almost five years. He trusted her to see him this vulnerable. Maybe because she was there, maybe because he knew she wouldn't tell anyone, maybe because they were alike. Or maybe for other reasons she didn't yet understand. Nothing mattered now though. All that mattered was that she was there and he was finally letting it go at last.


	19. S2 Blood Lust

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the concept or characters. **

**S2 EP25 BLOODLUST**

Back in Black poured through the speakers of the Impala as Dean sped down the empty highway with a huge grin on his face. It had only taken him two and half weeks to get her back on her wheels and he couldn't be happier.

"Woo! Listen to her purr," he grinned.

"You know, if you two wanna get a room, just let me and Bridget know," Sam told him.

Dean pet the dashboard, "Oh, don't listen to him, baby, he doesn't understand us."

"You're in a good mood," Sam noted.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"No reason at all," Bridget said leaning forward over the back.

"I got my car, got a case – things are lookin' up."

"Wow. Give you a couple severed heads and a pile of dead cows, and you're Mr. Sunshine," Sam said.

"Story of our lives," Bridget snorted.

"How far to Red Lodge?" Dean asked.

"Uh," Sam looked at the map. "About another three hundred miles."

"Good," Dean grinned and stepped on the gas.

* * *

Sam adjusted his tie. He had to admit, Dean and Bridget had collected a lot of various costumes during their years of hunting; police uniforms, priest uniforms (he didn't want to remember that), lab coats etc. Bridget was currently in a dark gray dress suit, adjusting her panty hose and slipping on her heels before adding a pair of glasses and pinning her hair in a bun.

Dean remarked before he could, "You look like one of those naughty strippers who comes out while Hot For Teacher is playin'."

"I'm taking that as a compliment," she retorted. "Because Sam gets the full deal later, and you don't."

Sam grinned at Dean who faked a pout and shut the door to the Impala as they walked into the Sheriff's station. Ten minutes later they were arguing across from him as reporters.

"The murder investigation is ongoing, and that's all I can share with the press at this time," the Sheriff said sternly.

"Sure, we understand," Bridget said and adjusted her glasses. "But just for the record, you found the first head last week, correct?"

"Uh huh."

"And the other, a Christina Flannigan?" Sam asked, reading from his notes.

"That was two days ago," there was a knock on the door and a young woman entered. "Sorry, time's up. We're done here."

"One last question," Sam said.

"What about the cattle?" Dean asked it.

"Excuse me?" the Sheriff paused.

"You know, the cows found dead, split open, drained – over a dozen cases."

"What about them?"

"So, you don't think there's a connection?" Bridget asked.

"Connection with…" he trailed off puzzled.

"First cattle mutilation, now two murders? Kind of sounds like ritual stuff," Sam pointed out.

"You know, like satanic cult ritual stuff," Dean added.

The Sheriff broke out in laughter. "You can't be serious."

They stayed straight faced and his laughter died. "You are serious. Those cows aren't being mutilated. You want to know how I know?"

"How?" Sam posed the question.

"Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilation. Cows drop, leave it in the sun, within forty-eight hours the bloat will split it open so clean, it's just about surgical. The bodily fluids fall down into the ground, get soaked up, 'cause that's what gravity does. But, hey, it could be Satan. What newspaper did you say you worked for?"

Sam and Dean exchanged dumb founded looks and Bridget took the floor. "Weekly World...they're new."

"Get out of my office," he chuckled.

They left the office and Bridget stripped off the jacket to her suit once they were back in the car. "Where to next?"

"Hospital, you know what to grab," Dean told her.

She grabbed the lock box from under the seat and pulled out three doctor tags. It was scary how they almost had conning down to an art form.

They made it clear into the autopsy room without a problem. Amazing how a white lab coat could get you by unnoticed. A tall man was standing in the room and Dean read his name tag which only said J. Manners.

"John," Dean guessed.

"Jeff," he corrected.

Dean chuckled, "Jeff, I know that. Dr. Dorkin needs to see you in his office right away."

"But he's on vacation."

"Well, he's back. And he's pissed and he's screamin' for you, man, so if I were you, I would-."

"Okay," he said bolting for the door and out the room.

Dean nodded, "Okay, hey, those Satanist in Florida – they marked their victims, right?"

"Yeah, reverse pentacle on the forehead," Sam nodded.

Dean handed him a pair of latex gloves. "So much F'ed up crap happens in Florida." They opened one of the compartments and slid the table out. On the slab was the girl who was killed in the woods. Her head was in a plastic box next to the body. "All right, open it."

Sam shook his head, "You open it."

"I told you too."

Bridget nudged Sam out of the way, "Jesus, you guys are wusses." She took the lid off the box and looked in. "Well, no pentagram."

"Wow, poor girl," Sam said.

"Maybe we should, uh, look in her mouth," Dean suggested. "See if the wacko stuffed anything down her throat. You know, kind of like the moth in _Silence of the Lambs_."

"Yeah, go ahead," Sam said.

"No, you go ahead," Dean nudged him.

"What?" Sam asked blankly.

"Put the lotion in the basket," Dean impersonated.

Bridget rolled her eyes, "You guys are such pussies," she said and felt in the head's mouth. "There's nothing in her mouth…but what the hell…" she looked at her gums again. "There's a hole in her gum." She pressed on it and a fang came out. Her eyes widened, "Oh shit, we got a vampire…"

"Retractable fangs…you gotta be kiddin' me," Dean groaned.

"This changes things," Sam said.

Bridget removed her gloves and tossed them at him. He backed away as if they were acid. "Yeah, but you're still a wuss and I need a drink."

Dean smiled, "Now that's what I'm talkin' about."

* * *

Bridget had made over a hundred bucks in just thirty minutes off one game. She stuffed it into her boot as she walked away, flashing a grin at the boys she beat. It was amazing what boots and a denim skirt did to the male population.

"So, we're lookin' for someone," Sam said to the bartender as Bridget strolled up to them.

The bartender eyed her, "I'd say you got plenty of company there."

"That's not what I meant," he shook his head and slid a twenty on the table. The bartender took it. "Great, so these people would've moved here about six months ago. Probably pretty rowdy, like to drink."

"Yeah, real night owls, you know? Sleep all day, party all night," Dean added.

"Barker Farm got leased out a couple months ago. Real winners. They've been in here a lot. Drinkers, noisy. I had to 86 'em once or twice."

"Thanks," Bridget nodded and they headed for the door. All noticing the suddenly empty table that had been occupied by a man just minutes ago. They made their way back to the car, turning the corner to the side of the building. Bridget ducked behind the dumpster with the two and waited. The man turned the corner and paused when he didn't see them. He turned around looking the other way and Dean motioned for them to come out. The black man turned back around and Dean pinned him to the wall, holding a knife to his throat.

"Smile," Dean said.

"What?"

"Show us your teeth?" Bridget demanded.

"Oh, for the love of…you wanna stick that thing someplace else? I'm not a vampire. Yeah, that's right, I heard you guys in there," he said.

"What do you know about vampires?" Sam asked.

"How to kill 'em. Now, seriously, bro. That knife is makin' me itch," he tried to move but Bridget brought a blade out of her boot, pinning his arm in place by his shirt, eyes stone cold. "Whoa! Easy there, Xena." He lifted his lip up to show his gums were normal. "See? Fangless? Happy?" They moved off him. "Now who the hell are you?"

They stood by Gordon's car after explaining themselves. "Sam and Dean Winchester and Bridget," Gordon repeated their names. He opened a hidden compartment of arsenal in the car. "I can't believe it. You know, I met your old man once – hell of a guy, great hunter…I heard he passed. I'm sorry. It's big shoes, but, from what I hear, you guys fill 'em – great trackers, good in a tight spot."

"You seem to know a lot about our family," Dean noted a little on edge by it.

"Well, word travels fast," he shrugged. "You know how hunters talk."

"No, we don't actually," Bridget said.

"I guess there's a lot he never told you, huh?" Gordon said stunning her a bit. What else did he know?

"So, uh…these two vampires – they were yours, right?" asked Sam to cut the confusion.

"Yup, been here two weeks," he nodded.

"Did you check out that Barker Farm?" Dean asked.

"It's a bust," he told them. "Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Though they could kill with their smell alone."

"Where's the next then?" Bridget asked.

Gordon grinned and it sent a chill down her spine. He slid his arsenal back into his car, "I got this one covered. Look, don't get me wrong, it's a real pleasure meetin' you three. But I've been on this thing for over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin, tracked the nest all the way up here. I'll finish it."

"We could help," suggested Dean.

"Thanks, but I'm kind of a go it alone type of guy."

"Come on, man. I've been itchin' for a hunt."

"Sorry, but hey, I hear there's a chupacabra two states over. Go ahead and knock yourselves out," he said sliding onto the driver's seat. "It was real good meeting you though. I'll buy you a drink on the flipside."

Bridget crossed her arms over her chest watching the car drive away. "We're following him, aren't we?"

Dean nodded, already walking to the Impala. "Damn straight."

Sam shook his head, talking low to her. "Something about this guy isn't right."

"You get that feeling too, huh?"

"Glad to know I'm not the only one…we need to be careful around him," he told her as they got into the car, following Gordon to the warehouse factory.

* * *

Bridget drained her beer, it still wasn't enough to erase the memory of Dean killing the vampire using the saw machine and grinding its head into the blade as they saved Gordon in the nick of time. She could still see the blood spraying onto Dean's face and the cold hard stare in his eyes that had sent shivers down her spine. In those few minutes she didn't even recognize him.

Sam sat quietly next to her, having had the same impression she did and the same unsettling feeling when it came to Gordon. Something about this guy wasn't right and she couldn't be sure what it was.

The waitress came by and set a fresh beer in front of them. Dean reached for his wallet but Gordon held a hand up, "No, no. I got it."

"Come on," Dean volunteered.

"I insist," he handed the woman a twenty. "Thank you, sweetie."

Dean grabbed the shot glass in front of him and so did Gordon. He eyed Bridget, "You don't drink hard liquor?"

"Just don't want one, thanks," she said taking a drink from her new beer.

"It's okay. It's a man's thing anyway," he said and toasted Dean. "Another one bites the dust."

"That's right," Dean smiled and downed it.

Bridget rolled her eyes, "On second thought," she grabbed her shot and drained it, putting the glass on the table.

"That's my girl," Dean smiled.

"Not bad, not bad," Gordon approved.

Bridget said nothing and Sam continued to frown.

"Dean," Gordon chuckled. "You gave that big ass fang one hell of a haircut, my friend."

"Thank you," Dean grinned.

"That was beautiful, absolutely beautiful," Gordon nodded.

Bridget and Sam exchanged looks on his word usage. He had just called killing a vampire with a blade saw beautiful…that was disturbing on a new level.

"You all right, Sam?" Dean asked.

"I'm fine," he nodded.

"Well, lighten up a little, Sammy," Gordon said.

Sam eyed him and nodded towards Dean, "He's the only one that gets to call me that."

"Okay, no offense meant. Just celebratin' a little. Job well done."

"I'm sure he'll celebrate later with Bridge," Dean joked and it earned him a back hand to the arm from Bridget.

Sam ignored the comment, "Right, umm…decapitations aren't my idea of a good time I guess."

"Oh, come on, man. It's not like it was a human. You've gotta have a little more fun with your job," Gordon explained.

Dean snapped his fingers, "See, that's what I've been tryin' to tell him," he looked at Sam. "You could learn a thing or two from this guy."

Sam became annoyed, "Yeah, I bet I could. Look, I'm not gonna bring you guys down. I'm just gonna go back to the motel."

"You sure?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam said and got up from the table. Bridget stood up with him, taking the keys from Dean and going outside. Sam took the keys from her, "I want you to stay with Dean…I don't trust Gordon."

"Neither do I, but I don't want you to be alone either," she said a bit worried.

"I'll be okay. I'm gonna go call Ellen. Find out if she knows anything on this guy and see what he's really about. You stay with Dean, make sure he doesn't get into any more trouble. Knock him out if you have too."

"I can happily do that," she promised.

He smiled, touching her cheek. "I know I can always count on you," he bent lower and kissed her and she found herself fighting the urge to drag him to the backseat of the Impala.

"Be careful," she told him and went back inside. Both boys looked a little surprised when she sat down at the table again.

"You miss me that much?" Dean asked.

"With every bullet but my aim is getting better," she teased.

"Decided you wanted to hang with the big boys? Learn a few things from me?" Gordon asked, picking up his next shot.

"Actually," Bridget reached across the table and plucked it from his hand, downing it without a grimace and setting it back in his hand. "I think you can learn a few things from me."

Gordon was stunned into silence and Dean busted up. "Now that's what I'm talkin' bout."

Twenty minutes later they were in a discussion of swapping hunting stories, a favorite topic for Dean and one she admitted to enjoy at times especially when Dean told them. "So, I picked up this crossbow and hit that ugly sucker with a silver tipped arrow right in his heart. Sammy's waiting in the car and then me and my dad take the thing into the woods and burn it to a crisp. I'm sitting there, and I'm lookin' into the fire and I'm thinkin' to myself…'I'm sixteen years old. Kids my age are worried about pimples, prom dates…and I'm seein' things that they'll never even know, never even dream of'. So right then…I just sort of…"

"Embraced the life," Gordon filled in.

"Yeah…"

"How'd you get started, Bridge?" he posed the question.

She froze mid sip and she could feel Dean's eyes on her. She set the bottle down and brushed a strand of hair from her face and she questioned telling him. "I uh…long story short, I had nothing left and wanted revenge so I'm out hunting one night and I'm following this spirit that's haunting this abandoned house because it was hurting people, causing a lot of trouble. While I'm in there I find I'm not the first one their hunting it because my spirit is hovering over its latest victim," she jerked her thumb at Dean and Gordon chuckled, Dean looked embarrassed. "So I blast it, save his ass, burn the body and get welcomed into the family. How'd you get started?"

He took a deep breath, "First time I saw a vampire, I was barely eighteen. Home alone with my sister. I hear the window break in her room. I grabbed my dad's shotgun, run in, try to get it off her. It was too late. So I shoot the damn thing, which, of course, is about as useful as snappin' it with rubber bands…it rushes me, flings me across the room, knocks me out cold. When I wake up, the vampire's gone…my sister's gone."

"And then?" Dean asked.

"And then…try explaining that one to your family. So I left home. And then bummed around lookin' for information – how to track them. And I found that fang. It was my first kill."

"I'm sorry about your sister," Bridget said, knowing what it felt like to lose a sibling.

"Yeah, she was beautiful. I can still see her, you know, the way she was," he took a drink and looked at Dean. "But hey, that was a long time ago. I mean, your dad – that's gotta be rough."

Bridget looked at Dean from the corner of her eye, saw him shift uncomfortably. "Yeah. Yeah, you know. He was just one of those guys…took some terrible beatings – just kept comin'. So you're always saying to yourself, 'he's indestructible. He'll always be around. Nothin' can kill my dad. And just like that," he snapped his fingers. "He's gone…"

Bridget fought the urge to reach for his hand instead she took a drink and waited for him to snap back on his own. He shook his head. "I can't talk about this in front of Sammy…gotta keep my game face on. Honestly, Bridget here is the only one I can talk to about it at times cuz truth is, I'm not handling it very well. I feel like I have this…"

"Hole inside you…" Bridget added to it, knowing that feeling for over four years nearly five. "That never really goes away…"

"It just gets bigger and bigger and darker," Gordon nodded. "Good. You can use it – keeps you hungry. Trust me, there's plenty out there needs killin' and this will help you do it. Dean, Bridge…it's not a crime to need your job."

Bridget took a drink, not to keep from speaking, but to erase the fact that he was right. Gordon spun his bottle. "You know why I love this life?"

"Hm?"

"It's all black and white. There's no maybe. Find a bad thing, kill it. Most people spend their lives in shades of gray. Is this right? Is that wrong? Not us."

"Not sure Sammy would agree with you," Dean said.

"Doesn't seem like Sam is much like us," Gordon said and Dean's smile faded a bit, Bridget stared at him intently. "I'm not saying he's wrong…but the three of us? We were born to do this. It's in our blood…"

Bridget had that strange feeling coming back through her alcoholic delusion that was killing her buzz. This guy was definitely crazy and Dean seemed to finally be figuring that out.

* * *

Bridget was surprised Sam wasn't at the motel when they got there and even more surprised Dean invited crazy Gordon with them. She stood next to where Dean sat at the table looking over a map with Gordon about where vampires were possibly located. She was watching, her mind focusing more on where Sam could be. The car was here and he wasn't. That wasn't like him to leave without calling her or Dean.

"Well, this is the best pattern I can establish. It's sketchy at best," Gordon said.

"Looks like it's all coming from this side of town, which means the nest would be around here someplace, right?" Dean asked pointing to an area on the map.

"Yeah, that's what I'm thinking. Problem is, there's thirty-five, forty farms out there. I've searched half of them already, but nothing yet. They're covering their tracks real good."

"I guess we'll just have to search the other half," Dean volunteered. He looked at Bridget who was now watching the door. "What time is it?"

"After midnight," she said. "Where the hell is Sam?"

"That's what I was wondering," he nodded.

"Car's parked outside," Gordon pointed out. "Probably went for a walk – seems like a take a walk type."

"Yeah, he is but only if I'm with him or Dean at night, otherwise he doesn't go out," she said.

"Why? He need his hand held?"

She glared at him, "Because I'm his girlfriend, it's what we do to have time together so we can talk."

"Is Sammy your girlfriend or are you his?" Gordon asked.

She set her jaw, "His name is Sam and just because he doesn't hunt with such enthusiasm doesn't make him less of a man and if-." She stopped talking as Sam came walking through the door and she let out a sigh of relief and was in his arms before she realized she had moved in such a girly moment. She backed up, smacking his arm to kill the moment, "Where the hell have you been?"

"We were worried," Dean added.

His eyes shifted between the two of them. "Can I talk to you two alone?'

Dean looked at Gordon. "You mind chillin' out for a couple minutes?"

Gordon shook his head and they followed Sam outside. Once past the door and near the car did Sam speak. "Dean, maybe we've gotta rethink this hunt."

"What are you talkin' about? Where were you?" Dean asked.

Sam paused, thinking of what to say. "In the nest…"

"You found it?" Dean asked.

"They found me," he corrected.

"How'd you get out? How many did you kill?" Dean asked. He saw no blood or marks on his brother.

"None," he shook his head.

"Well, Sam, they didn't just let you go," Dean scoffed.

"That's exactly what they did," Sam said.

"You're kidding?" Bridget asked.

He shook his head. "No, they let me leave."

"All right, well, where is it?" Dean asked.

"I was blindfolded. I don't know."

"Well, you gotta know somethin'."

"We went over that bridge outside of town, but Dean, listen, maybe we shouldn't go after 'em."

"Why not?"

"I don't think they're like other vampires. I don't think they're killing people."

"You're joking…then how do they stay alive? Or undead, or whatever the hell they are?"

"The cattle mutilations. They said they live off animal blood."

"And you believed 'em?"

"Look at me," Sam held his arms out. "They let me go without a scratch."

"He's got a point…" Bridget said.

"Wait, so you're sayin'…no, man. No way. I don't know why they let you go, I don't really care. We find 'e, and we waste 'em," he started walking back to the hotel.

"Why?" Bridget asked following him.

"What part of 'vampires' don't either of you understand? If it's supernatural, we kill it. End of story, that's our job."

"No, our job is killing evil," Sam corrected him. "And if these things are killing people, they're not evil."

"That's what they do. They're supernatural, not of the norm, it's our job to kill them."

Bridget took as knife from her boot and handed it to Dean, putting it in his hand and standing in front of him. "Then kill me."

"What?" he asked in confusion.

"I'm supernatural, I'm not normal, so kill me. It's your job, right? Then do it," she said and held her arms out.

Dean shook his head, "I'm not gonna kill you."

"Why not?" she asked as Sam watched uncertain.

"Because you're not evil."

"And neither are they if they let Sam go," she said and he handed her the knife back.

"They are."

"No, Dean, I don't think so," said Sam, relieved now that the knife was gone. "Not this time."

"Gordon's been on those vamps for a year, man. He knows," Dean said.

"Gordon?" Sam repeated.

"Yes."

"You're taking his word?"

"That's right."

"Ellen says he's bad news."

"Not really new news there," said Bridget.

"You called Ellen?" Dean asked. "And I'm supposed to listen to her? We barely know her. No thanks, I'm going with Gordon."

"Right," Bridget nodded letting her arms slap to her sides. "'Cause Gordon is such an old friend. He's insane, Dean! He talks about killing like it's an art, he's up there with Dahmer and Ramirez."

"He's not a socio path."

"Could've fooled me."

"Quit substituting Dad," Sam said suddenly and even Bridget froze. "What?" Dean asked.

"He's a bad substitute for Dad."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean said and started walking away.

"He's not even close, Dean. Not on his best day," Sam added.

Dean whirled around with a smile. "You know what, I'm not even gonna -."

"You know what, you slap on this big, fake smile, but I can see right through it, 'cause I know how you feel, Dean! Dad's dead! And he left a hole and it hurts so bad you can't take it, but you can't just fill up that hole with whoever you want to! It's an insult to his memory."

Dean nodded, "Okay," he turned quickly around and punched Sam in the face. Bridget jumped in shock a hand to her mouth to stop the gasp that came from her.

Sam straightened back up from the blow, "You can hit me all you want. It won't change anything."

Dean's eyes hardened. "I'm going to that nest. You don't wanna tell me where it is, fine. I'll find it myself."

"Dean," Bridget followed him, Sam behind her and they entered the room. She wasn't surprised to find the other hunter gone.

"Gordon?" Dean called out.

"You think he went after them?" Sam asked.

"I know he did that son of a bitch," Bridget growled.

"We have to stop him," Sam said.

"Really? Cause I think we helped him out," said Dean.

"Just give me the benefit of the doubt, would you? You owe me that."

"Yeah, we'll see…," Dean looked for his keys. "Shit, he snaked the keys."

Dean managed to hot wire the Impala with a grumble, "I can't believe this. I just fixed her up too…so, this bridge – is that all you got?"

Sam looked at the map as Bridget flashed the light on it, sitting in the middle. "The bridge was four and a half minutes from their farm."

"How do you know?"

"I counted," he said and Bridget and Dean both stared at him in wonder. "We took a left out of the farm then turned right on a dirt road followed that for two minutes slightly uphill then too another quick right and we hit the bridge."

Bridget shook her head, he could still surprise her and Dean did the same, "You're good. You're a monster pain in my ass, but you're good."

"Is that Gordon's car?" Bridget pointed near the farm house.

"He's already here…" Sam trailed off.

Dean parked the car and the three got out, hurrying inside. They went right and came into the dining room where Gordon had the blonde vampire girl Bridget recognized from her drawings tied to a chair. She was bleeding from various cuts Gordon had sliced into her. The sick bastard was torturing her.

"Sam, Dean, Bridget, come on in," Gordon welcomed them.

"Gordon, what's going on?" Dean asked disturbed by the scene.

"Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood. She's gonna tell us where her little friends are, wanna help?"

"Look man -."

"Grab a knife. I was just about to start on her fingers," he said and cut her arm causing her to hiss.

"Whoa, whoa, hey. Let's all just chill out, ok?" Dean said.

"I'm completely chill," he shrugged.

Bridget was slowly approaching him from the other side of the table. "Gordon, put the knife down…"

"It sounds like it's Bridget who needs to chill and Sammy by the look of it," he said.

"Just step away from her, all right?" Sam said.

"Killing them is one thing, Gordon, torture is a little different. Bit extreme," Bridget told him.

He nodded. "You're right," he put the knife down. "I'm wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk," he pulled out a bigger knight. "Might as well put her out of her misery," he looked at Sam. "I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane."

Sam walked towards Lenore from the other side of the table, "Gordon, I'm letting her go."

"You're not doing a damn thing," he pointed the knife at Sam.

"Gordon, no," Bridget said and stepped closer to him. He slashed the knife towards her and grabbed her arm and pulled her into him with the knife to her neck.

"Bridget!" Sam stepped closer but Gordon pulled the knife closer to her.

"I'd step back if I were you."

"Whoa…" Dean said calmly holding his hands up. "Let's take it easy. Let's talk about this?"

"What's there to talk about? Like I said, Dean. No shades of gray," Gordon said.

"I know. And I know how you feel…the vampire that killed your sister deserved to die but-"

"Vampire that killed my sister…" he chuckled. "That fang didn't kill her. He turned her into one of them. So I hunted her down and killed her myself."

Bridget's eyes widened. "You did what?"

"You heard me," he said and put the knife closer so she had to arch her head back against him. "I killed her…chopped her head clear off. She wasn't my sister anymore, she wasn't human. I didn't blink and neither would you."

"And this is being human?" Bridget asked referring to the knife at her neck.

"You should really watch what you say right now," he reminded her.

"You knew they weren't hurting people. You knew and you didn't care," said Sam, eyes on the knife at his girlfriend's throat.

"Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acts nice? Takin' a little time out from sucking innocent people? And we're supposed to but that? Trust me. It doesn't change what they are. They're all the same and I can prove it," he grabbed Bridget's arm and dragged the knife across it causing her to grimace and pulled her forward towards the vampire, putting the blade back at her throat. Dean pulled his gun on Gordon at that point, watching the madman reel her around to the vampire.

"Let her go," Dean ordered.

"Relax, if I wanted her dead I'd have slit her throat while I had her. I'm just proving a point," he said and held her bleeding arm above the vampire's head, letting her blood drip onto her face. Like they knew she became all fangs and hissing. "See?" Gordon said. "They're all the same. Still wanna save her. Look. They're evil. Blood thirsty."

Suddenly her face morphed back and she turned her head away. "No…no."

"You hear her, Gordon," Sam said, he had managed to move closer to Bridget without setting an alarm off with Gordon.

"No…no…," she repeated.

"She doesn't want my blood," Bridget told him and moved away from him, she wrapped her hand around her injured forearm and took a step back.

Sam immediately grabbed her and pulled her to him, moving her to his other side farthest from Gordon. "We're done here."

"Sam, get her out of here," Dean said and Sam nodded picking her up out of the chair. "Bridge, you stay here, just in case since you're bleeding and all."

She nodded her head, inspecting her cut. It was still bleeding nicely but it wouldn't need stitches. Hurt like a bitch too.

"Get out of my way," Gordon said.

"Sorry," Dean shook his head.

"You're not serious."

"Try him," Bridget snorted and sat on the edge of the table, swinging her feet back and forth. "I dare you."

"You want those vampires you gotta go through me," Dean said.

Gordon put his knife on the table. "Fine."

Dean caught the hint and put his gun down. Bridget moved to grab the weapons. "Man to man fight. Too bad I can't-"

She was cut off as Gordon back handed her across the face, sending her reeling backwards into a table before sucker punching Dean and picking his knife off the table. Dean managed to knock it out of his hand before he was sent through a table. Gordon was moving in on him, "You're a hunter. You're not like your brother or his sweet little girlfriend."

"Who you calling sweet?"

He turned around and Bridget spun a roundhouse kick, catching him in the face. She doubled back and kicked up, meeting his chest and sending him into the glass cabinet. Dean grabbed him and jabbed him twice in the face before putting him in a headlock and calmly walking him into the door head first. "Oops," he mumbled. "Sorry."

With Bridget's help they tied him to the chair and waited for Sam to return. Two hours later the sun was rising and they heard the front door open. Sam came in and stopped, first seeing Gordon tied to a chair then Dean's busted lip and the slight discoloring near Bridget's eye. He turned her face slightly to look at it. "Did I miss anything?"

"Nothing much," Dean shrugged and watched Sam look at the cut on his girlfriend's arm. "I'm fine by the way."

"Lenore get out okay?" Bridget asked as Sam tied the piece of cloth tighter on her arm.

"Yeah," he looked at Gordon who looked thoroughly pissed, "All of them did."

"Then I guess our work here is done," Dean said and looked at Gordon. "How you doin', Gordy? Gotta tinkle yet?" He nodded. "All right. We'll call someone in two or three days, have 'em come out, untie you," he placed the knife way out of Gordon's reach.

"Ready to go, Dean?" Bridget asked, standing next to Sam.

"Not yet," he looked at Gordon. "I guess this is goodbye…it's been real," he punched Gordon in the face, causing the chair to tip over. He nodded and looked at Sam and Bridget. "Okay. I'm good now. We can go."

Once outside Dean sighed and turned to Sam. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Clock me one."

"What?" he asked.

"Come on. I won't even hit you back. Let's go," he braced himself for the hit.

"No," he said stunned.

"Let's go, you get a freebie! Hit me, come on."

He scoffed, "You look like you just went twelve rounds with a block of cement, Dean. I'll take a rain check," he said.

"I wish we never took this job because everything got jacked up."

"What do you mean?" Bridget asked.

"Think about all the hunts we went on our whole lives, Sam," he looked at Bridge. "Including when I met you."

"Okay," Sam said.

"What if we killed things that didn't deserve to die? You know, I mean, the way Dad raised us…"

"Dean, after what happened to Mom…Dad did the best he could."

"I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. I mean the way he raised us to hate those things, and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire last night at the mill, I didn't even think about it. Hell, I even enjoyed it."

"You didn't kill Lenore," Bridget said.

"Yeah, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her, I was gonna kill 'em all."

"Yeah, Dean, but you didn't. And that's what matters," Sam said matter of factly.

He shook his head. "Yeah…because you're a pain in my ass."

Sam laughed. "Guess I might have to stick around and be a pain in the ass then."

"Thanks…"

"Don't mention it," Sam said.

"Sam has to stay anyway," Bridget tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I haven't had sex this week. I'm getting cranky."

Dean groaned and shook his head as he got in the car, "You get your own room tonight then. Mines goin' down the hall. I can hear you through the walls if I don't."

"I'll just have to be extra loud," she smiled, sitting in the middle.

"Oh dear God, I'd rather be with the vampires," Dean shook his head and took off driving down the freshly lit road towards their next destination, wherever that would be.


	20. S2 Dead Things

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE EPISODE IDEA OR THE CHARACTERS. JUST THE IDEA OF BRIDGET**

**S2 EP26 DEAD THINGS**

"Come on, Sammy," Dean groaned. "This is stupid."

"Why?" Sam asked, he was currently in possession of the wheel.

"Going to visit Mom's grave? I mean, she doesn't even have a grave. There was no body left after the fire."

"So what?" Bridget said in Sam's side. "There was nothing left of Lydia but I still visit her grave when I visit Derek and my nephew."

"That's different. Your brother's there, too."

"It's the significance, Dean," she argued.

"So you guys wanna visit a slab of granite?"

"That's not the point," Sam said.

"Enlighten me," he huffed.

"It's not about a body or a casket. It's about the memory, okay?"

"Mm."

"And after Dad, it just…it just feels like the right thing to do."

"It's irrational, that's what it is," Dean folded his arms over his chest.

"No one asked you to come along," Bridget growled. "You could have stayed at the motel."

"And let you guys take the car? No way. You might decided to have sex in the backseat, can't have that," Dean said.

Bridget smiled, tossing her head sideways, "Who's to say we haven't?"

Dean looked at her in utter horror. "You're bluffing…"

"Am I?" she cocked her eyebrow.

Dean's eyes shifted to Sam who had a similar smile, eyes on the road. He shook his head at the thought, "Oh God, no! Not my car!"

Bridget chuckled, holding Sam's free hand in hers.

"Why don't we swing by the Roadhouse instead? I mean, we haven't heard anything on the demon lately and we haven't been there in almost a month."

"That's a good idea. We can drop you off and pick you up tomorrow."

He rolled his eyes, "Right. Stuck with those people, making awkward small talk 'til you two show up? No thanks. I don't trust you alone with my car anymore."

* * *

Bridget hung back, walking around the cemetery and looking at the other grave stones. She didn't want to invade Sam's personal space, it was his mother after all. They never followed her to Will's grave or her brother's for that matter. It was something he needed to do on his own. From where she stood she could see Sam kneeling at his Mom's grave and she could see Dean from the other side, walking around deeper into the cemetery towards a dead looking tree with interest.

With a frown she walked over to where he was, hands in her pockets. When she got close enough she could see what he was looking at. The grass all around the grave was dead in a perfect circle and so were the flowers at her grave.

"What are you thinking, Dean?" she asked, staring at the dead flowers.

"I'm thinkin' somethin' ain't right with this," he said and pointed at the circle. "This is way too perfect to be coincidence. Not with the flowers being dead with it 'cause they're aren't even in the ground and none of the other graves are affected."

"You think we got a case here?" she asked.

"I'm gonna go talk to the grounds keeper and find out…you hang out with Sam, cheer him up, but not too much, it's a cemetery after all, don't go gettin' kinky."

"Oh come on, Dean. You know me."

He grinned. "Exactly why I said it."

He dodged out of the way before she could kick him and she walked back over to where Sam was, slowly approaching, not wanting to bother him. She kept her arms folded over her chest, biting her lower lip. Sam looked up at her as she got closer and smiled slowly though she could see the tears in his eyes. "Hey…"

"I'm sorry, am I intruding?" she apologized. "I'll go wait by the car."

"No, no, stay. Come here," he stood up and held his hand out to her. She took it slowly and he brought her to his side, looking back at his Mom's grave. "Mom, this is Bridget. The girl I was talkin' to you about earlier, the one who helped out Dad and Dean…and me in a way."

She smiled nervously but spoke calmly, "Hi Mrs. Winchester…your sons are wonderful, your husband did a great job with them…and don't worry, I keep them in line."

Sam smiled with a small laugh, "She'd have liked you, Bridge."

"She'd have loved you to death," Bridget told him.

He smiled a bit and his eyes scanned the cemetery, "Where's Dean?"

"He went to go talk to the care taker. We might have a case on our hands."

"Really?" he raised his eyebrows in interest.

"We're not sure yet," she said. "But everything is dead around this one grave in a perfect circle and I mean everything from the grass to the flowers on the grave."

"Could just be pesticide."

"Could be," she said and shivered. It was colder out than she thought and she left her jacket in the car.

Sam saw her shiver and drew her closer, "Here, take my jacket."

"No," she moved her arms around him under his jacket, snuggling into his chest. "This is better because you're always warm."

"It's because I'm fat," he snorted.

"Yeah…right," she rolled her eyes though he couldn't she since she was pressed so close. She moved one hand from behind his back and moved it under his shirt, trailing his abs with her fingers and felt him shiver. "That doesn't feel like fat to me. That feels like your nicely toned six pack." She moved her hand around to his back, still under his shirt, feeling his muscles ripple from it. "That and the fact you wear like three layers of shirts."

She absent mindedly stroked her fingers up and down his bareback feeling warmer already. She also felt a tremor roll through Sam and felt him grip her tighter, one hand a little too close to her rear end. "Sam, we're in a cemetery."

"Uh huh…"

"And in front of your mother nonetheless. I don't think you grabbing my ass would make a great first impression."

"Good point," he nodded and for safety measures she moved her hand from under his shirt. They moved back to the car where she was able to grab her jacket from the back seat but still stayed next to Sam for the added warmth.

Not long after Dean came towards them and held up a piece of paper. "Angela Mason. She was a student at the local college. Her funeral was three days ago."

"And?" Sam said.

"And? You saw her grave, everything dead around it in a perfect circle. You don't think that's a little weird?"

"Maybe the groundskeeper went a little agro with the pesticide," suggested Sam.

"No, I asked him. No pesticide, no chemicals. Nobody can explain it."

"Okay, so what are you thinking?" asked Bridget.

"I don't know. Unholy ground, maybe?"

Both Sam and Bridget frowned at that. Unholy ground in a cemetery seemed unlikely.

"What?" Dean went off their looks. "If something evil happened there, it could easily poison the ground. Remember the farm outside Cedar Rapids?"

"Yeah, but -."

"Could be the sign of a demonic presence. Or that Angela girl's spirit, if it's powerful enough…well don't get too excited, you might pull something," he went around to the driver's side.

"It's just…stumbling onto a hunt? Here, of all places?" Sam asked.

"So?" Dean shrugged.

"So, are you sure this is about the hunt, not about something else?"

"Sam…" Bridget said in a warning voice.

"What else would it be about?" asked Dean.

Sam sighed, "You know, just forget it."

"You could believe what you want, Sam. But I let you drag my ass out here, the least you can do is check this out."

"You're right," Bridget said cutting in to stop an argument. "We did drag you out here and we can check this out because it does sound weird."

Dean nodded at her, "The girl's dad works in town. He's a professor at the school. Bridget, you get to play one of her old friends."

"Something easier for a change," she sighed in relief and got in the car.

* * *

Department of Archaeology and Greek Studies. Two things she didn't know went together but she at least knew her Greek studies to pass it off. She knocked on the door to the office, brushing the bangs from her face and straightening out her blouse, another item from Victoria Secret, and was glad she wore jeans with her high heeled boots going under them.

A tire looking man answered the door and she smiled warmly. "Dr. Mason?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Bridget. I was a friend of Angela's. This is my boyfriend, Sam, and my friend, Dean. We wanted to offer our condolences."

"Please come in," he said and stepped aside.

Bridget took a seat on the couch and Sam sat next to her. Dr. Mason pulled out a scrap book of photos. "She was a wonderful girl…" he said, opening it and flipping through the pages.

"I always thought she was so pretty," Bridget said.

"Yes, she was," her father nodded sadly.

Dean frowned at some of the books on the large bookshelf he was standing by, "This is an unusual book," he plucked it from the shelf and held it up, gesturing at the strange symbols and letters."

"It's ancient Greek," he said and Dean put the book back on the shelf. "I teach it."

"So, a car accident. That's horrible," Dean went on to say.

"Angie was only a mile away from home when, uh…" he trailed off.

"That's gotta be hard – losing someone like that. Sometimes it's like they're still around. Almost like you can still sense their presence. You ever feel anything like that?"

"I do as a matter of fact," he said and Dean nodded at Bridget and Sam.

Sam shook his head, "That's perfectly normal, Dr. Mason. Especially with what you're going through."

"You know, I still phoned her. The phone was ringing before I remembered that uh…family is everything, you know? Angie was the most important thing in my life, and I'm just so lost without her," he said and tears fell from his eyes.

"We're very sorry, Dr. Mason. We'll leave you to grieve in private," Bridget said and motioned for Dean to follow warning him with a look not to press the man any further with questions. He wasn't behind the crop circle on her grave. He missed her too much to be responsible for any of that.

* * *

"I'm telling you, there's something going on here. We just haven't found it yet," Dean said sternly. He was really believing there was something supernatural going on here.

"Dean, so far you've got a patch of dead grass and nothing," Sam noted.

"Well, something turned that grave into unholy ground."

"There's no reason for it to be unholy ground. Angela mason was a nice girl who died in a car crash. That's not exactly "vengeful spirit" material. You heard her father."

"Yeah, well, maybe Daddy doesn't know everything there is to know about his little angel, huh?"

"You know what, we should never have bothered that poor man. We shouldn't even be here anymore."

Bridget held her breath waiting for it, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"So what, Sammy? We just bail?" Dean asked.

"I think I know what's going on here. It's the reason I went along with you this far."

"What are you talking about?"

"This is about Mom's grave."

Dean scoffed, "That's got nothing to do with it."

"You wouldn't step within a hundred yards of it. Look…maybe you're imagining a hunt where there isn't one so you don't have to think about Mom. Or Dad," Dean was glaring at him now and Bridget was standing up, waiting to intervene. "You wanna take another swing? Go ahead. It'll make you feel better."

"I don't need this crap," he shook his head and headed for the door.

"Dean, where are you going?" Sam asked.

"I'm gonna go get a drink. Alone."

He slammed the door and Bridget grabbed her jacket heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked her.

"After him, as usual."

Sam scoffed, "Of course."

She paused at the door, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you always take his side when he throws his temper tantrums and runs off. You always go after him and leave me behind."

"He's my friend."

"And I'm your boyfriend. It'd be nice if you were on my side once in awhile."

"And it'd be nice if you wouldn't nit pick at, Dean, but you do. He's not like you, Sam. He'll talk about it when he wants to talk about it."

"Then why go after him?"

"Because he'd do the same if it was me, because when this is over, when that demon is dead you'll go back to school and Dean will go after me when I'm upset by it. That's why," she shut the door behind her and headed across the parking lot to find Dean. He was just getting in the car and she ran for the passenger door, getting in before he could take off.

"I said I wanted to go alone," he said looking straight ahead.

"That's nice, but I'm going with you."

"You should go back to Sam."

"I don't want to."

"I want to be alone."

"The day I give a shit about what you want I'll let you know."

He shook his head a bit. "Bridget, get out of the car."

She shook her head. "No."

"Get out."

"The mood you're in, I'm not letting you go alone."

His voice was rising she noticed, "Get out!

"I said no!"

He slammed his hand on the wheel. "Dammit, Bridget. I don't want you here."

"Well that's too damned bad because I know otherwise so you can just drive to the bar now or we can sit here and yell because I have all night and plenty of held back anger to do it," she challenged.

"Sam, isn't gonna like you takin' my side all the time or runnin' after me."

"We just argued about that. I made my point pretty clear," she reassured him.

"He doesn't believe me, Bridge…"

"I do, Dean. We got nothing else to do anyway so we might as well check this out to be sure."

He nodded, "I got her address. Wanna go check it out with me?"

"Let's go for it."

He smiled a bit, putting the car in drive and taking off, AC/DC on the stereo. "Just like the old days."

She nodded, hand on the window frame. "Certainly is."

* * *

They walked up the porch steps of the darkened house. He tried the knob out of habit but of course it was locked. "Bridge, you got the set?"

She snorted, taking it out of her pocket, "Don't I always?"

Dean picked the lock open and they moved in, shutting the door and looking around. Bridget spotted a picture in a frame and picked it up. "Angela looks like…"

Dean leaned in to look and spotted a reflection in the corner of the frame. He spun around to see another girl standing in the doorway. "Who the hell are you?"

"Wait, wait, wait! Hold on," he called out to her as the girl sprinted into her room, shutting the door.

"I'm calling 911!"

"We're Angela's cousins," he told her.

"What?" he noticed the hesitation in her voice.

"Yeah," Dean said. "Her dad sent me over to pick up her stuff. My name's…Alan. Alan Stanwick and this is my girlfriend…Brooke." He shrugged and Bridget rolled her eyes.

The girl opened the door peaking out, "Her dad didn't say you were coming."

Bridget held up a set of keys that she had snagged from the drawer when Lindsey bolted. "Well, how else would we have the key's to your place?"

A few minutes later they had the crying Lindsey sitting on the couch and they sat across from her on another couch. "So…" Dean went on. "I'm sure you got a view if Angela that none of the family got to see. Tell me, what was she like? I mean, what was she _really_ like?"

"She was great," she sniffled.

"Mm," Bridget snorted, looking at Dean.

"Just…great. I mean, she was so…"

"Great," Dean filled in.

"Yeah," she started crying again and Dean winced handing her a tissue.

"You two must have been real close," Bridget said.

"We were. But it's not just her, it's Matt."

"Who?" Dean asked picking up a trail.

"Angela's boyfriend."

"Right, Matt. What about him?" Bridget asked.

"He killed himself last night. He cut his own throat. Who does that?"

Bridget exchanged a look with Dean. That was almost impossible to do. "That's terrible."

She was crying again. "He was taking Angela's death pretty hard. And I guess…I mean, he'd been messed up about it for days."

"Messed up how?" Dean asked.

"He kept saying that he saw her everywhere."

"Well, I'm sure that that's normal. I mean, with everything that he was going through," Dean reassured her.

"He said that he _saw_ her. As in, acid trip or something."

Dean nodded. "Were Angela and Matt a happy couple? I mean, was there any reason that Angela would be angry with him?"

"What? No, of course not. Why do you ask?"

"Just asking," Bridget sighed. They might have found something after all. "Where did Matt live?"

After jotting down the address they left Lindsey to her grief. Bridget looked at the piece of paper. "We're gonna need Sam on this after we check that apartment, Dean, and you know it. Especially if there's any dead plants."

"Yup, we are. Maybe now he'll believe me."

* * *

Bridget frowned as Dean moved to open the door and stopped him, leaning closer to listen. A grin spread across her face and she giggled a bit, motioning for him to listen. _"Next, on the Skin Channel, "Casa Erotica 4"_."

Bridget opened the door and Sam shut off the TV from where he sat at the edge of the bed. She raised her eyebrow at him.

"Hey," Sam said nervously.

Dean looked at the TV then back at Sam. "Awkward…"

"What?"

Bridget strolled over, looking like the cat who caught the canary. "Whatcha watchin'?"

"Nothing."

"Oh," she pushed the on button on the TV and was greeted by the two Latin beauties nearly naked and in a deep make out session. "Hmm…interesting channel."

Sam quickly shut it off, "I was just, uh, flicking through channels and stopped on it when you came in then I just turned it off."

"I'm sure you did, sweetheart," she smiled and sat next to him, patting his thigh. "But you know if you ever want to have a fantasy night let me know, I mean we got nurses outfits and I'm sure I can find a cheerleader outfit."

"Okay – really don't wanna hear it as much as I'm gonna fantasize about it now," Dean interrupted.

"So where did you guys go?"

"Well, while you were watching Casa Erotica we were working on the imaginary case," Dean said.

"Yeah, and?"

"Well, you were right, we didn't find much. Except Angela's boyfriend died last night – slit his own throat. But, you know, that's normal. Let's see, what else, Bridget?"

"Oh, he was seeing Angela everywhere before he died."

"Right," he snapped his fingers. "But you know, I'm sure that's just me transferring my own feelings."

"Okay, I get it. I'm sorry, maybe there _is_ something going on here."

"Maybe? Sam, I know how to do my job, despite what you might think."

Sam took a deep breath, "We should check out the guy's apartment."

"We just came from there," Bridget said. "Found a pile of dead plants just like the cemetery."

"So unholy ground?" Sam asked.

"Maybe. But I'm not getting the angry spirit vibe from Angela. I have been reading this though," he pulled a pink book from his bag."

"You stole the girl's diary?"

"No, Bridget did. I've just been reading it. She was a little _too_ nice."

"So, what do you wanna do?"

"Keep digging. Talk to more of her friends," Bridget suggested.

"You get any names?" asked Sam.

"You kidding me?" he held up the diary. "I have her bestest friend in the whole wide world," he tossed it to Bridget.

She read through a couple pages, "Looks like it's Neil's house next."

* * *

Neil was sitting on the porch outside his house, "I didn't realize the college employed grief counselors."

Dean nodded his head, "Oh, yeah. You talk, we listen. Maybe throw in a little therapeutic collage, whatever helps jump start the healing."

Bridget rolled her eyes and sat next to Neil, "I apologize for my colleague. He's new at this which is why he was sent to observe me and Sam here. We just want to make sure you're doing okay. If you need to talk we're here to listen and it's strictly confidential."

"Well, I think I'm okay. Thanks."

"Well, you heard what happened to Matt Harrison, right?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I did."

"We just wanted to make sure _you_ were okay. Grief can make people do crazy things."

"Look," Neil said. "I'm sorry about what happened to him. I am, but if Matt killed himself, it wasn't 'cause of grief."

"No? Then what?" Dean asked.

"It was guilt. Angie's death was Matt's fault, and he knew it."

"How was Matt responsible?" Bridget asked.

He shook his head, "She really loved that guy. But the night of the accident, she walked in on him with another girl. She was really torn up, that's why she crashed the car…look, I've gotta get ready for work. So, thanks for the concern, but seriously, I'll be okay." He stood up and went inside.

The three walked back to the car and Dean spoke first, "Well, vengeful spirit theory is starting to make more and more sense. I mean, hell hath no fury."

"And you both better remember that," Bridget nudged them. "But do you think it's over if she was after Matt?"

"Well, there's one way to be sure," Dean said and got in the car.

Bridget slid into the backseat, leaning forward between them. "What's that?"

"Burn the bones," Dean said.

"Burn the bones? Are you high? Angela died last week," Sam reminded him.

"So?"

Even Bridget was a little green knowing exactly what Sam was talking about. "So, there's not gonna _be_ bones. There's gonna be a ripe, rotting body in the coffin."

"Since when are you afraid of getting a little dirty, huh?" Dean asked with a grin and Sam shook his head.

Once again Bridget held the flash light while the two boys dug, grumbling about her not helping. After a good thirty minutes they finished digging up the grave and Dean gestured at Sam, "Ladies first."

"You first," he snorted.

"What are you? Chicken?"

Bridget rolled her eyes and hopped down into the whole, "For the love of God, I'll do it since you're both always pussies." She handed Sam the flashlight and bent to open the casket. Her eyes widened as the lid came open and the three exchanged a look at the empty coffin. "That's not good."

"They buried the body four days ago," Dean said with a shake of his head.

"I don't get it," Sam kneeled down and noticed the lining of the casket was torn. "Look," he pointed at the strange symbols etched into the wood.

"What is that?" Dean asked.

"I'm not sure."

His eyes widened slightly. "I've seen these kinds of symbols before."

* * *

"Dean, maybe you should think about this," Bridget suggested for the hundredth time since he fixated on questioning Dr. Mason about the symbols. They were now standing on the porch to his house.

"I know I saw them on that book," he knocked on the door.

"Dean, take it easy, okay?" Sam asked and he ignored him knocking again.

Dr. Mason opened the door, "You're Angie's friends, right?"

"Dr. Mason-." Sam started but Dean cut him off.

"We need to talk about Angie."

"Well, then, come in."

Bridget smiled weakly at him, "Thank you."

Dean didn't waste any time. Dr. Mason barely closed the door before he started asking questions. "You teach Ancient Greek? Tell me. What are these?" he pulled out the piece of paper with the drawings from the coffin on it.

"I don't understand. You said this had something to do with Angie."

"It does. Please, just humor me," Dean said.

He took the paper from him, "They're part of an ancient Greek divination ritual."

Dean nodded, "Used for necromancy, right?"

"That's right."

"See, before we came over here, we stopped by the library and did a little homework ourselves. Apparently, they use rituals like this when communicating with the dead. Even bringing corpses back to life – full on zombie action."

"Yeah. I mean, according to the legends. Now, what's this all about?"

Dean took the paper back from him with a serious look. "I think you know."

"Dean," Bridget warned him.

"Look, I get it okay? There are people who I would give anything to see again. But what gives you the right?" Dean went on.

"Dean!" Bridget just about yelled it this time, jumping up from the couch.

"What are you talking about?" Dr. Mason asked in complete confusion.

"What's dead should stay dead!"

Sam grabbed his brother's arm. "Stop it!"

Dean went on, "What you brought back isn't your daughter anymore. These things are vicious, they're violent, they're so nasty they rot the ground around them. I mean, come on, haven't you seen _Pet Semetary_?"

"You're insane," Dr. Mason said, backing from him slowly.

"Where is she?" he asked, retching his arm from Sam.

"Get out of my house!"

"I know you're hiding her somewhere. Where is she?"

Bridget noticed the plants and pointed at them. "Dean, stop! That's enough, look. Beautiful, loving plants. Now let's go," she grabbed him arm, tugging at him.

"I'm calling the police," Mason threatened.

Sam helped guide Dean out of the house, apologizing as he went. "Sir, we're sorry. We won't bother you again."

Bridget gave Dean a shove as they left the house, "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Back off, Bridge," he warned.

"That man was innocent," Sam said angrily. "He didn't deserve that!"

"Okay, so, she's not here. Maybe he's keeping her somewhere else," Dean said.

"Stop it! That's enough!" Bridget warned him.

"I know what I'm doing," Dean told them.

"No, you don't!" Sam exclaimed. "At all. Dean, I don't scare easy, but man, you're scaring the crap outta me."

"You're being overdramatic, Sam," Dean snorted.

"I don't think he is," Bridget said and stood near Sam. He looked surprised that she was taking his side for a change. "You went ballistic in there, Dean, on a human."

"And you're lucky this turned out to be a real case, 'cause if it wasn't, you would just find something else to kill."

"What?" Dean asked, wheeling around on them.

"You're on edge," Sam said, "You're erratic. Except for when you're hunting, 'cause then you're downright scary. You're tail spinning, man. And you refuse to talk about it and you won't let me help you."

"I can take care of myself, thanks," he said.

"No, you can't," Bridget shook her head and now Dean looked shocked at her. "And as much as I care about you, you need to talk to Sam. You can't do this on your own."

"I swear to God if either of you mentions Dad's death again."

"Stop, please, Dean – it's killing you. Please. We've already lost Dad. We've lost Mom. I've lost Jessica and Bridget lost her family. Are we gonna lose you, too?" Sam asked whole heartedly.

Dean paused for a moment, eyes on the ground. "We better get out of here before the cops show," Bridget folded her arms over her chest. "I here you both , alright? I'm being an ass, and I'm sorry. But right now we've got a freakin' zombie running around and we need to figure out how to kill it. Right?"

"Our lives are so weird. I mean, this is a typical conversation for us," Bridget scoffed and got in the car.

"You're telling me, come on."

* * *

Dean frowned sitting on the bed as Bridget read through John's journal for some sort of clue of how to rid themselves of a zombie. Sam was next to her on the bed, turning through the pages to find anything at all.

"We can't just waste her with a head shot?"

"Dude, you've been watching way too many Romero movies and playing way too much Resident Evil," Bridget said, lying on her stomach.

"You're telling me there's no lore on how to smoke 'em?"

"No, Dean, I'm telling you there's too much," Sam corrected. "I mean, there's a hundred different legends on the walking dead, but they all have different methods for killing them. Some say setting them on fire, one said…where is it?" Bridget flipped the page and pointed at it. "Right, feeding their hearts to wild dogs. That's my personal favorite," he said and absent mindedly stroked Bridget's back through her shirt. "Who knows what's real and what's myth?"

"Is there anything they all have in common?"

"Other than it kills the zombie, not really. But a few said silver might work," said Bridget.

"Silver's a start," he nodded.

"Yeah, but now, how are we gonna find Angela?" Sam asked.

"We gotta figure out the person who brought her back," Dean said.

"Any ideas?"

"I think if it's not her dad, it might be that guy, Neil."

"Now we're thinkin' on the same page," Bridget smiled, resting her chin on her hand.

Sam looked at both of them, "Neil?"

"Yup."

"How'd you come up with that?"

"Bridget, book please," Dean held his hand out and she maneuvered around to pull the pink diary from her purse, tossing it to him. He caught it. "Let's see, a ha! Here it is. 'Neil's a real shoulder to cry on. He so understands what I'm going through with Matt.' And there's more in here where that came from. It's got unrequited Duckie love written all over it."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he brought her back from the dead," Sam pointed out.

"Hmm, did we mention he's Professor Mason's T.A.? He has access to all the same books. Found that out from searching school records.

"Now that's interesting," Sam mused.

* * *

Bridget picked the lock to the door and pushed it open, letting Dean go first since he had the only gun that would hurt a zombie. "Hello? Neil? It's the grief counselors. We've come to hug," Dean called out and there was no response.

"You got silver bullets?" Bridget asked , standing behind him with one of her blades in her hand. She hoped to not have to use it at such close range.

"Yeah, enough to make her rattle like a change purse," he said and they looked around noticing all the dead plants in the house. They came to the basement door and Sam opened it, moving slowly down the stairs. A bed sat empty in the middle of the room. "Sure looks like a zombie pen to me."

"Yeah, an empty one," Sam said. "You think Angela's going after somebody?"

The window caught Bridget's attention and she found it open, "No, I think she went to Blockbuster, was in an _O.C._ or _Gilmore Girl's_ Mood."

"Okay, smartass," Sam snorted. "We've gotta find her before she kills someone."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "All right, she clipped Matt because he was cheating, right?"

"Yeah," Bridget nodded.

"Well, it takes two to, you know…have hardcore sex," he said and Bridget smiled glancing at Sam. Dean groaned a bit and shook his head.

"Right," Bridget nodded. "And it did seem that Angela's roommate was _really_ broken up about it."

"You gotta point there. I say we pay her a visit," Dean said

* * *

The scream was the first thing they heard as they got out of the car. Angela was there and she had Lindsey. They ran for the door full speed only for it to be locked. Dean cursed under his breath and kicked at it. It gave way under his foot on the second hit, smashing to pieces and they hurried inside. Angela was sitting on top of a screaming Lindsey, scissors raised in her hand, posed to kill. Without a second thought, Bridget raised her gun and shot at the zombie. The bullets from all three guns hit her and she ran jumping out the window.

Dean and Bridget went to the window while Sam helped the frantic Lindsey up. "I've got you, I've got you," he told her to calm her down.

"Damn," Bridget said, Angela was nowhere in sight. "That dead girl can run."

"What now?" Sam asked, sitting Lindsey on the couch.

"I say we have a chat with Neil," Dean answered.

"What about her?"

"We'll drop her off at a friends house," Dean shrugged.

* * *

After dropping Lindsey off at her cousins, they drove on to Neil's and Bridget sat up front between the brother's.

"So, the silver bullets did something?" Sam asked.

Bridget reloaded her handgun, "Yeah, but it wasn't enough. She's still way too fast."

"Anything else you got in the journal, Sam?" Dean asked.

He skimmed through the journal, "Umm…okay. Besides silver bullets, we have nailing the undead back into their grave beds. It's mentioned a few times. It's probably where the whole vampire staking lore came from."

"Their grave beds?" Dean asked. "You serious?"

"Yeah."

"Well, how the hell are we gonna get Angela back to the cemetery?"

"Not like we can get her to lay down in it," Bridget said. "Unless we come up with a good lie…"

They all thought about it and one by one their faces lit up with the same idea.

* * *

Neil was in his office at the school sitting behind his desk when they found him. "What are you guys doing here?" he asked surprised and a bit nervous.

"You know, I've heard of some people doing some pretty desperate things to get laid," Bridget remarked and gestured at him with a smile. "But you take the cake? I mean, does that make you a necropheliac?"

"Okay, who are you guys?" he asked nervously.

"You might wanna ask Angela that question," Dean answered.

"What?" he asked coyly.

"We know what you did," Sam said. "The ritual, everything."

Neil scoffed with a smile, "You're crazy."

"Your girlfriend's past her expiration date, and we're crazy. With all due respect, I'm not dating a corpse. When someone's gone they should stay gone. You don't mess with that kind of stuff," Bridget said.

"Angela killed Matt. She tried to kill Lindsey," Sam added.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he shook his head. Dean sighed irritated and walked behind the desk, grabbing Neil by the collar and jerking him out of his seat, holding him in place. "Hey!"

"No more crap, Neil! This blood is on your hands. Now, me and him and her can make this right, but you've gotta tell us where she is. Tell us!"

"My house," he said. "She's at my house."

Dean let him go and noticed the dead plants around the office. She was here. His eyes drifted to the closet door. "You sure about that?"

Neil nodded frantically and sat back down.

"Listen, it doesn't matter where she is," he told him. "There's only one way to stop her, and we've gotta perform another ritual over her grave to reverse the one that you did." He looked over at Sam and Bridget. "We're gonna need some black roots, some scarweed, and some candles," he looked again at Neil. "It's very complicated, but it'll get the job done. She'll be dead again in a couple of hours. I think you should come with us…I'm serious. Leave with us, right now."

Neil shook his head, "No, no…"

Dean leaned over the desk and spoke quietly to him. "Listen to me, get out of here as soon as you can. But most of all, be cool. No sudden movements. Don't make her mad," he gave him a half smile and motioned for Bridget and Sam to follow him out.

They were headed back to the cemetery to perform the "ritual" the best way to lure her there. Bridget lit a few candles putting them around the grave. "You really think this is gonna work?"

"No, not really," Dean said and she rolled her eyes. "But it's the only thing we go."

A noise came from the trees and Bridget stood up, grabbing the gun from the back of her jeans and Sam held up the shot gun. He glanced at them and Dean nodded for him to go look around. He disappeared into the dark and Bridget waited.

"You think it's her?" she asked Dean, gun in hand and pointed at the ground.

"Pretty damn sure," he said and a gunshot sounded.

Bridget was running before she realized it, but she didn't have to run far. Sam brought her straight to them. Angela caught up to him, knocking him to the ground and pinning him in place. Bridget shot her in the head and kept shooting. She was almost out of bullets when Dean took up the rest of the shooting with the other gun, knocking her back into her grave. He ran and slid in after her, stabbing the knife into her chest. Bridget reached the side in time to see him do it and watch Angela die for good.

"What's dead should stay dead," he said but she heard the same tone in his voice hat hesitated her thoughts. It was the chance to see your family again. She couldn't do this to her brother or Will, but she knew the pain and desire of wanting to do almost anything to see them again.

She reached down and helped Dean out of the hole once he closed the casket. "Come on, we got some burying to do."

It took them the remainder of the night and Bridget wiped the dirt from her brow. She felt miserable covered in dirt and sweat and wanted nothing more than a bath and food, maybe two baths.

"Rest in peace," Sam said to her grave as they started walking back to the car, the sun barely rising casting a gray like glow in the cemetery.

"Yeah, for good this time, okay?" Dean added.

"You know, the whole fake ritual thing? Luring Angela into the cemetery? Pretty sharp," Bridget admitted, bumping Dean with her hip.

"Thanks," he grinned.

"But did we have to use me as bait?" Sam asked.

"Bridget's always bait but this was a girl zombie so we couldn't use her. I figured you were more her type. She had a pretty crappy taste in guys," he said and Bridget swatted him.

"What's that supposed to say about me?"

"Nothing," he corrected. "You have a great taste in guys, most of the time."

"I think I broke my wrist," Sam said holding his right arm closer to him.

"Are you okay?" Bridget asked, concerned now

Dean paused to look it over, noting the swelling and disfigured look. "Yeah, you did. We'll stop by the emergency room, get this fixed. Guess you're just too fragile."

Bridget smiled at Sam wickedly, "Guess that means I get to be on top for awhile."

Dean groaned and covered his ears. "I'm not hearing this!"

They reached the car and Dean glanced back and saw his mother's headstone. Sam's smile faded a bit. "You wanna stay for awhile?"

Dean paused to think of it and shook his head, "No…" He put his stuff in the trunk and got into the driver's seat.

It stayed dead silent in the car even after they got a cast on Sam's wrist. The sun was finally coming down and Dean pulled over on the highway. He got out and sat on the hood. Bridget and Sam followed sitting on either side of him.

"Dean…what is it?" Bridget asked softly.

"I'm sorry," he apologized out loud.

"For what?" Sam asked.

"The way I've been acting," he said and paused a moment. "And for Dad. I mean, he was your dad, too, Sam. It's my fault that he's gone."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

"I know you've been thinkin' it. Both of you. So have I. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Back at the hospital, I had a full recovery. And it was a miracle. Then, five minutes later, Dad's dead and the colt is gone."

"Dean-."

"You can't tell me there's not a connection there. I don't know how the demon was involved. I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly. But dad's dead because of me. That much I do know."

"We don't know that. Not for sure," Sam said and Bridget felt the weight get heavier on her.

Dean shook his head, "Sam…you, Bridget, and Dad – you're the most important people in my life. And now…I never should have come back, Sam. It wasn't natural. And now, look what it's come to. I was dead. And I should have stayed dead," his voice broke and tears filled his eyes. "You wanted to know how I was felling. Well, this is it…so tell me, what could you possibly say to make that all right?"

Bridget took a shivering breath. She couldn't let Dean go on feeling this guilt and anguish. She had to stop it even if it meant they'd hate her for it. "Dean, it wasn't your fault. You didn't know he'd do it…but I did."

"What?" he asked and looked at her, even Sam was looking at her. She looked away over the horizon, tears in her eyes as she told the truth at last. "I had drawn it before the crash, hell I _drew _the crash. After Sam was arguing with your dad, thinking he was going to bring the demon back to kill it, I figured out the drawing meant he was making a trade…I confronted him about it and he didn't deny it but I couldn't stop him…my drawings always happen, they can't be stopped. He didn't want me to tell either of you about it, he made me promise…but I knew…it was my fault because I knew. I knew he was going to saver Dean…I knew he'd die…but he died because he loved you. He traded because you were needed, because Sam and I would fall apart without you. He did it out of love to save his son…and I knew about it…you shouldn't have died, Dean. It wasn't your time…it was supposed to happen because I drew it…I'm sorry."

Something unexpected happened then and she felt Dean's arm go around her shoulders, "It's not your fault, either…"

Sam nodded and came around to sit next to her, kissing the side of her head. "He'd have done it anyway. No one could stop him…"

"We just…we gotta find a way to do this…it's the three of us now…" Dean added and they sat there, watching the sunset in silence.


	21. S2 Simon Says

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but Bridget**

**S2 EP27 SIMON SAYS**

Bridget sat on the hood of the car, legs crossed at the ankles and head tilted back in the sun, her eyes closed under her sunglasses. The weather was nice for a change, warmer than it had been in a while. But jumping state to state meant different weather situations. For now she could wear a denim skirt since for once she had no cuts or bruises on her legs and her boots didn't have to be covered under her jeans but instead tight up to her calves. Her top was another she had bought off Victoria Secret. It cut low on her chest in a dark chocolate brown and the shoulder shrug attached to the back to fit her shoulders so it would stay up. To others it looked like she had a small jacket over the shirt but in actuality it was part of the shirt.

She felt eyes on her and without moving her head spoke, "Dean, take a picture it'll last longer."

She heard a click and opened her eyes jerking her head to look at him. He had his cell phone out and pointed at her with a grin on his face. "Already did."

"You ass," she growled.

He shrugged, "You said I could."

She shook her head, licking the inside of her cheek. "Where's Sam?"

"Still in the bathroom."

She slid off the hood of the Impala. "Let's go get him before I kill you."

He followed her to the side door of the gas station where the bathroom was and was about to knock when Dean stepped in front of her to do it. She frowned. "Why are you blocking me?"

"Because that's my brother in there," he said matter of factly.

"Yeah, and?"

"And I'll check on him."

She chuckled, "Dean, I've seen him naked."

He shivered, "Please don't remind me. I got this."

"I mean, we showered together this morning. Conserving water and all that."

He rubbed at his forehead as if it would erase the image. "I'm sure," he knocked again. "Sam, come on, zip it up. Let's go," he pushed the door open and Sam was standing at the sink, face still dripping from the water he splashed on it. He looked paler, another vision.

Bridget squeezed past Dean and reached for his arm, "What did you see?"

* * *

They were in the car now heading to the Roadhouse though Dean wasn't sure it was a good idea and she literally found herself between the brothers wishing she had sat in the back for this trip. "I don't know, man," Dean said. "Why don't we just chill out and think about this?"

Sam reached over and turned off the radio, removing all hope of Bridget tuning them out. "What's there to think about?"

"I just don't know if going to the Roadhouse is the smartest idea."

"Dean, it's another premonition. I know it is. This is gonna happen and Ash can tell us where."

"Yeah, man, but -."

Sam cut him off. "Plus, it could have some connection with the demon. My visions always do."

"And so does Bridget's necklace but that hasn't been acting up."

"Maybe because we're not near it yet, but it could be the demon."

"That's my point. There's gonna be hunters there. I don't know if going in and announcing that you're some supernatural freak with a demonic connection is the best thing for you or Bridget, okay?"

Bridget turned her head to him, "So I'm a freak now?"

"You two have always been freaks," he smirked.

Bridget smiled, "Well your brother is freaky, I'm not sure that makes him a freak though."

She grinned satisfied when Dean made a disgusted noise and leaned her head against Sam's shoulder, feeling him chuckle at the reaction.

* * *

The three entered the Roadhouse and Jo smiled at Dean. "Just can't stay away, huh?"

"Yeah, looks like it," Dean chuckled.

"Where's Ash at?" Bridget asked.

"His room."

"Awesome," Sam said and walked back that way with Bridget, Dean following.

Sam knocked on the door with the blaring music coming out of it and the sign that read Dr. Badass Is In. "Ash!" he knocked again. "Hey Ash!"

Bridget tried knocking. "Hey Dr. Badass."

The door opened and Ash stood there naked. Bridget turned her head, scratching the back of her head and looking at Dean.

"Sam, Dean, Bridget," Ash said rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Hey, Ash, um…we need your help," Sam said, averting his eyes.

"Hell, then…I guess I need my pants," he said and the door shut.

Bridget shook her head, "I'm scarred for life now…"

"Bet that lowered your sex drive," Dean teased.

"Not as much as you wish."

A few minutes later, Ash had his pants on and was sitting with them at an empty table with his decked out laptop. Sam drew a bus logo on a piece of paper and Ash found the Blue Ridge line it belonged to in seconds. "So, I got a match. Let's see…it's the logo for the Blue Ridge bus lines – Guthrie, Oklahoma."

"Okay," Sam nodded. "Do me a favor. Check Guthrie for any demonic signs or omens or anything like that."

"You think the demon's there?" Ash asked and Bridget fought the urge to role her eyes. Sam as becoming a little obsessed with this.

"Yeah, maybe," he said.

"Why would you think that?" Ash asked.

"Just check it, all right?" Dean asked Ash.

He pressed a few buttons and shook his head, "Nope. Nothing, no demon."

"All right, try something else for me. Search Guthrie for a house fire. It would be 1983, the fire's origin would be a baby's nursery, the night the kid's six month birthday."

Ash looked at him as if he were crazy. "Okay, now that is just weird, man. Why the hell would I be lookin' for that?"

Bridget popped the top off a beer bottle with her shirt, making sure Ash could see her belly button ring and set the full bottle in front of him with a smile. "Cause there's a couple more of these in it for you."

"Give me fifteen minutes," he said and began typing away feverishly. Bridget moved closer to Sam. "Don't get too caught up in this…it could be nothing."

"It could be something," he said sternly.

She let out a deep breath and patted his shoulder letting her fingers trail down his arm as she walked towards the bar to get a drink. She sat on a stool and ordered a beer from Ellen who handed it to her looking at her sideways. "You okay, Bridge?"

She nodded, "I'm fine."

"You hung out with John too much. Always quick with the bullshit, never one for the truth when it comes to personal issues."

She smiled ruefully. "Never have been one for emotions."

"Like most hunter women."

"There's others?"

She shrugged, "Not as many as there are men, but just as tough. Gotta be for a job like this one."

"I think I'm pretty head strong," she admitted.

"Doing this as long as you have been with those two boys, mainly Dean," she joked, "you better be. Girl like you could be doing plenty of other things."

She kept the sad smile, "Whatever you say Ellen…can I get another beer for Dean?"

She nodded and placed another one down just as Dean took the seat on her left. "Free beer? Thanks Ellen."

She snorted and walked away, "Bridget bought it for you."

"Oh, thanks Bridge."

"Uh huh," she said and took a long swallow.

"What is it?"

"What's what?"

"What's got you upset? You forget I know you too well."

She shook her head with a sigh, "Only you would, Dean…"

He nudged her arm with his elbow, "What is it?"

She looked over at Sam who sat in a booth with Ash, absorbed by the computer. "He's so quick to get himself killed…to jump into this thing. Dean, we weren't ready for it when we were ready for it. He was too strong and too smart and I can't watch Yellow Eyes hurt you guys again because he will and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it."

"Hey," Dean said to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "It's gonna be okay, all right? I'm not gonna let anything happen."

She nodded her head, not fully believing his words but buying them enough that she could get by. _Can't Fight This Feeling_ started playing on the jukebox and they both winced, Bridget masking it by taking a drink as Jo came over and sat on Dean's other side while he fidgeted uncomfortably. She rolled her eyes, of course the young blonde would play such a crappy obvious song.

"What?" Jo asked Dean.

"REO Speeadwagon?" he asked.

"Seriously, you couldn't pick anything more craptaular," Bridget said.

"Damn right, REO. Kevin Cronin sings it from the heart."

Dean smirked, "He sings it from the hair. There's a difference."

"That profile you got Ash looking for?" Jo asked.

"Mm?" Dean mumbled.

"Your mom died the same way, didn't she? A fire in Sam's nursery?"

Bridget pretended to be interested in the magazine in front of her and no longer listening. She didn't want this conversation falling her way.

"Look Jo, it's kinda a family thing," Dean explained.

"Bridget's not family but she helps," Jo pointed out and her grip on her beer bottle got a little tighter.

Dean's hand brushed against her elbow, sensing her tension. "Yeah, well, she's been around this a helluva lot longer not to mention around me and Sam a lot longer. She's practically family in a weird sense of the word."

"But I could help."

"I'm sure you could. But we've gotta handle on this one ourselves. Besides, if I ran off with you, I think your mother might kill me."

Jo gave him a bland look, "You're afraid of my mother?"

"I think so," he nodded with a smile towards Ellen at the other end of the bar.

Sam came over and saved them all, Dean from Ellen's wrath and Bridget from tossing Jo across the room. "We have a match. We gotta go."

Dean said his parting words to Jo and Bridget made a grunt noise that was a good bye. In the Impala they all sat in the front seat, Bridget with her sketch book in her lap. "So what you got?" Bridget asked.

"Andrew Gallagher," he read from his notes. "Born in '83, like me. Lost his mother to a nursery fire exactly six months later, like me."

"You think the demon killed his mom?" Dean asked.

"Sure looks like it."

"How'd you even know to look for this guy?"

"Every premonition I've had – if they're not about the demon, they're about the other kids the demon visited. Like Max Miller, remember him?"

Bridget shivered remembering the kid blowing his brains out. "I try not to."

"The point is, he was killing people and I was having the same type of visions about him. Now it could be happening all over again with the Gallagher guy."

"How do we find him?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. No current address, no current employment. He still owes money on all his bills."

"Collection agency flags?" Bridget asked.

"Not in the system," he shook his head.

"They just let him take a walk?" Dean asked confused.

"Seems like it. There's a work address from his W-2, about a year ago. Let's start there."

* * *

At least it was a diner. A diner Bridget could deal with, easier to fool people. Hospitals, police stations, morgues, churches – those took a little more work and, usually, a little more cleavage. Though she wasn't big on having to wear the dress suit again with the stockings and the heels. She left the glasses off this time which caused Dean to pout and her to remind him that he was lucky she had heels on or it'd be his ass.

"You won't get anything out of Andy, guys," Tracy, the young waitress, said as she poured coffee for the three of them.

"They?" Sam questioned.

"You're debt collectors, right? Once in awhile, they come by. I don't know what Andy says to them but they never come back."

Dean was adjusting his tie again. "Actually, we're lawyers, representing his great aunt Lita. She passed, God rest her soul, but left Andy a sizeable estate."

"Yeah," Bridget nodded her head. "Are you a friend of his?"

"I used to be, yeah. I don't see much of Andy anymore," she said sadly as another co worker walked by and stopped by the table.

"Andy? Andy kicks ass, man!"

Dean blinked a couple times, "Is that right?"

"Yeah! Andy can get you anything, man. He even got me backstage at Aerosmith once. It was beautiful, bro."

"Uh huh," Tracy nodded unimpressed. "How about busting a table or two, Webber?"

He sighed. "You bet boss."

"Look," she said shaking her head as Webber left. "If you wanna find him, try Orchard Street. Just look for a van with a Barbarian Queen painted on the side."

"Barbarian queen?" Sam repeated with a frown.

"She's riding a polar bear. It's kind of hard to miss."

* * *

Tracy had been right, it was hard to miss. The busty leather clad blonde was riding a polar bear on the side of the van. It was very…tasteful . Bridget shook her head in dismay, readjusting her boots after changing back into her denim skirt and Victoria Secret off the shoulder top.

Dean had a grin on his face. "I'm sorry, I'm starting to like this dude. This van is _sweet_."

Bridget rolled her eyes and looked over at Sam who seemed upset. "What's wrong, babe?"

"Nothing," he shook his head.

"Sam, you look like you were sucking on a lemon, what is it?"

"This Andrew Gallagher – he's the second guy like this we've found. The demon came to them when they were kids, now they're killing people."

"We don't know what Andrew Gallagher is, okay?" Dean reminded him. "Could be innocent?"

"My visions haven't been wrong yet."

"Neither have my drawings and I've drawn _nothing_ of this. Usually if it involves Yellow Eyes, I get a picture dream or two. I've gotten nothing, Sam. Least not related to this."

"But I'm one of them."

"No, you're not," Dean said.

"Dean, the demon said he had plans for me and children like me."

"So?"

"Maybe this is his plan, maybe we're all a bunch of psychic freaks! Maybe we're all supposed to be-."

Dean cut him off, "What, killers?"

"Yeah."

Bridget shook her head, "Yeah, right, Sam. He's going to use all of you as little killing robots? You couldn't kill a cat much less a human."

Dean added on, "He wants you killing with your minds? Is that it? Give me a break, Bridget's right, you're not a murderer, Sam. You don't have it in you."

"No?" Sam said. "Last I checked, I kill all sorts of things.

"Well, those things are asking for it," Bridget reminded him. "I have powers too, but they got nothing to do with Yellow Eyes."

They looked up to see Andy coming out of an apartment building wearing a robe and pajamas. A blonde waved at him with a smile as he left and that caused the three to exchange looks since Andy was a geek of sorts. Andy paused to talk to a man on the street and after a minute the man handed him his cup of coffee.

"That's him," Sam said pointing out the window at another person Andy was talking to. "The older guy he's talking to, that's the shooter."

"Well, you and Bridget keep an eye on him, I'll follow Andy. Go."

Bridget slid out of the car after Sam and started walking, following Jennings. "Is any of this familiar?" Bridget asked as they came to a busy street.

"Very," he nodded as a bus passed by just like in his vision. He spotted the gun store and grabbed Bridget's hand. "Come on."

She followed him across the street and into the store. She watched as Sam moved to the wall and pulled the fire alarm, heading back out and guiding Bridget with him. She watched as Jennings was about to enter but shook his head and turned away.

"That's strange."

Bridget glanced up and tapped Sam's shoulder with wide eyes and pointed at the Impala. Dean's Impala but with Andy driving it. "No, _that's _strange!"

"What the…" Sam pulled out his cell phone and called Dean, putting it on speaker. "Dean, Andy has the Impala!"

"I know! He just sort of asked me for it and then I let him take it."

"You did _what!_" Bridget said. "You never even let _me _drive the damn thing."

"He full on Obi Wan'd me! It's mind control!"

Bridget shook her head and ran her fingers through her hair, frozen as she watched Jennings walk into the street. She grabbed Sam's arm and he looked up in time to see Jennings get hit by a bus. They exchanged shocked looks, apparently this hadn't been in the vision.

* * *

It wasn't long before they met up with Dean and found the Impala on a street corner not far from the accident. Dean ran to his car, hugging the hood before moving to the driver's window. "Thank God. I'm sorry, baby. I'll never leave you again," he looked over at a staring Sam and Bridget. "At least he left the keys in the car."

"Yeah," Bridget nodded. "Real Samaritan, this guy."

"Well, it looks like he can't work his mojo just by twitchin' his nose. He's gotta use verbal commands," Dean said.

"The doctor had just gotten off his cell phone before he stepped in front of the bus. Andy must have called him," Sam guessed.

"I don't know. Maybe," Dean said.

"Beg your pardon?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I just don't know if he's our guy," Dean said.

"Dean, you had O.J. convicted before he got out of the white Bronco, and you have doubt about _this_?"

"He just doesn't seem like the stone cold killer type, that's all," he became more stern. "And O.J. was guilty!"

"Either way, how we tracking him down?" Bridget cut in.

Dean thought about it a moment, "Not a problem."

They drove a couple blocks and found the van. "Not exactly an inconspicuous ride," Dean said as they got out of the car, heading towards the van. "Let's take a look." He patted his pockets, frowning as he looked for his lock pick kit. Bridget rolled her eyes and took hers out from the inside of her boot. She brushed Dean out of the way and had the door open in seconds, sliding it across. Inside was completely decked out including a disco ball, blankets and various half clothes girl posters.

"Wow," Dean said in awe. "This is…this is magnificent. That's what this is. Not exactly a serial killer's lair. There's no little clown paintings on the walls or scissors stuck in victim's photos."

Bridget picked up random books. "Hegel? Wittgenstein? That's pretty heavy reading."

Dean picked up a large bong with a grin. "Yeah, and uh…Moby Dick's bong."

After investigating the van and finding nothing to lead to it being Andy they grabbed lunch and ate in the car.

"Ugh," Dean mumbled and bundled up his wrapper throwing it in the backseat. Bridget threw it back at him.

"Hey, I sit back here. Throw your trash in the bag," she said.

"You know, one day, I'd love to just sit down and eat something I didn't have to microwave in the mini mart."

Bridget sucked at her slurpee. "Tell you what, you buy a mini oven and I'll cook."

Sam was too busy looking through paperwork to comment, "What I don't get is his motive? I mean, the doctor was squeaky clean. Why would Andy waste him?"

"If it _is_ Andy?" Dean added.

Sam put the papers down, "Dude, enough."

"What?"

"The doctor was mind controlled in front of a bus. Andy just happens to have the power of mind control. You do the math."

"I just don't think the guys got it in him," Dean said.

"Well, how the hell you know? I mean, why are you bending over backwards defending him?"

"'Cause you're not right about this," Dean said.

"He may have a point…" Bridget said thinking about it.

"About Andy?" Sam asked her in disbelief.

They were too absorbed in the argument to see Andy approach the rolled down windows on Dean's side.

"Hey!" Andy said causing Bridget to jump slightly. "You think I haven't seen you three? Why are you following me?"

"Well, we're lawyers," Bridget said noticing she was in her jean skirt and off the shoulder top. Not very convincing, but she was trying. "See, a relative of-."

"Tell the truth," Andy demanded.

"I am telling you the-." Bridget started but Dean cut her off.

"We're demon hunters," he blurted.

"What?" Andy said in disbelief.

"Dean!" Sam said.

"Demons, spirits – things your worst nightmares wouldn't even touch. Sam here, he's my brother and the girl in the back seat is his girlfriend, Bridget and my best friend."

"Dean, will you shut up!" Bridget hissed.

Dean made a noise in his throat as if he was forcing himself not to speak. "I'm trying…not working." He pointed at Bridget. "She's different in a psychic sorta way but not like you and my brother because hers had nothing to do with a demon, she was born with it." He pointed at Sam. "He's psychic. Kind of like you. Well, not really like you, but he thinks you're a murderer and he's afraid he's gonna become one himself 'cause you're all part of something that's terrible, and I hope to hell that he's wrong, but I'm starting to get a little scared that he might be right."

Andy shook his head in disbelief, "Okay, you know what? Just leave me alone."

"Okay," Dean said and put his head in his hands ashamed.

Bridget got out of the car heading towards Andy and heard Sam following behind her.

"Hey, wait," Bridget called out to him.

"What are you doing? Look, I said leave me alone," Andy said.

"That's nice," Bridget said and gestured at her and Sam. "Doesn't mean we don't want to talk."

"Get out of here! Just start driving and don't stop," he demanded.

"Yeah, not happening," she said. "I don't think it works on us."

"What?" he said in shock.

"You can make people do things, can't you? You can tell them what to think," Sam said.

"That's crazy," he laughed nervously.

"It all started about a year ago, didn't it? After you turned twenty-two. Little stuff at first, then you got better at controlling it."

"How do you know all this?"

"'Cause the same thing happened to me, Andy. My mom died in a fire, too. I have abilities, too. You see, we're connected, you and me."

He shook his head, "You know what, just get the hell out of here?"

"Why'd you tell the doctor to walk in front of the bus?"

"Sam…" Bridget warned him.

"What?"

She saw Sam clutch at his head and get paler. "Why did you kill him?"

She put her hand on Sam's arm, "Sam? You okay?"

"I didn't," Andy denied.

Suddenly Sam's knees gave out as a vision, fully swept him. "Sam!" she cried out and grabbed him. But he was too heavy and tall for her to hold up. "DEAN!"

He was by her side in an instant helping her get him to the ground more gently as the vision ended. "What was it, Sam? Babe, what did you see?"

"I didn't do anything to him," Andy shook his head.

Bridget rubbed at the back of her boyfriend's neck and looked at Andy. "It's his ability. Visions."

"A woman," Sam breathed heavily. "A woman burning alive."

"What else you got?" Dean asked supporting his other side.

"A gas station – a woman's gonna kill herself."

"What's he mean?"

"Shut up," Dean hissed.

"She gets triggered by a call on her cell," Sam said, color coming back to his face.

"When?" Dean asked and helped him stand.

"I don't know, but as long as we keep our eyes on this son a bitch, he can't hurt her."

"I didn't hurt anybody!" Andy exclaimed.

"Yeah, not yet," Sam said. A fire truck rushed by, sirens blazing. Sam looked at his brother. "Go." Dean took off without another word.

Andy started moving away and Bridget put her hand out, using her irritation and concern for Sam to control it. It flowed through her, pinning Andy into place. "Not you. You stay."

He tried to move his legs but found himself unable to, "What the hell?"

She smiled, "You're not the only special person, though I've had mine for years."

"Is that why I can't control you?"

"I'm not like you and Sam," she shook her head.

"Then why?"

She shrugged, "I'm just immune."

Sam's phone rang a few minutes later, it was Dean. Bridget moved closer to hear, still concentrating on holding Andy in place as Sam put it on speaker for her to hear.

"She's dead. Burned, just like you said."

"When?" Sam asked.

"Minutes before I got here. I mean, the smell hasn't cleared. What's up with your visions, man? This wasn't even a head start. Hell, Bridget's pictures are at least days if not weeks in advance."

"I don't know, all right," Sam said rubbing at his temple. "I can't control them. I don't know what the hell is going on."

"Listen, you guys were with Andy when this whole thing went down so it can't be him. It's gotta be somebody else."

"We'll see what we can find," he hung up and they looked at Andy. Bridget let her hold go and rubbed at her head from the slight headache it gave her. It was at least getting easier.

"You get these premonitions about people about to die?" Andy asked Sam after a couple minutes of talking. "That's impossible."

Bridget snorted, "Uh huh and controlling people is so normal."

"Death visions?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"Dude, that sucks. When I got my mind thing I thought it was a gift, you know? It was like I won the lotto."

"But you live in a van? I don't get it," Bridget said.

"I've got everything I need," he shrugged.

Sam took a breath, "So, you're not a killer huh?"

Andy laughed, "That's what I've been trying to tell you."

"That's good. It means there's hope for the two of us," Sam said just as Dean pulled up and got out of the car.

"Victim's name was Holly Beckett – forty-one single."

"Who is she?" Bridget asked Andy.

"Never heard of her," he shrugged clueless.

"I called Ash on the way here, he came up with somethin'. Apparently, Holly Beckett gave birth when she was eighteen years old back in 1983. Same day as you were born, Andy."

Sam's eyes widened. "Andy, were you adopted?"

"Well, yeah," he nodded.

"You were? And you neglected to mention it!" Dean said.

"It never really came up. I mean, I never knew my birth parents. And, like you said, my adopted mom died when I was a baby. Do you think this Holly woman could actually be-."

Dean cut him off, "I don't know. I tried to get a copy of the birth records, but they're hard copy only. Sealed in county office."

Andy made a dismissing noise and stood up. "Screw that, I'll get 'em."

* * *

Not ten minutes later they were inside the county office as Andy worked his magic on the still reluctant officer. "I probably shouldn't have let you kids in here."

"No, it'll all be fine, all right? Just go get a cup of coffee, all right," the officer left and Dean was amazed.

"That s so awesome."

Sam already had the file he needed in hand. "Got it."

"Yeah?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Andy, your mother was Holly Beckett."

He seemed stunned and leaned against the counter. "Does anyone have a Vicodin?"

"Dr. Jennings was her doctor, too. I mean, he oversaw the adoption. You have a solid connection to both of them."

"But I didn't kill them," he said.

Bridget put her hand on his shoulder. "We believe you."

"But…who did?" was Dean's question.

"I think I've got a pretty good idea," Sam said reading the file. Holly Beckett had twins."

"I have…an evil twin," Andy said in disbelief.

"Holly put you and your brother up for adoption. You went to the Gallagher family, obviously, and your brother went to the Weems from upstate."

"Andy, how you doing? Still with us?" Bridget asked him.

"Umm," he shook his head in his daze. "What's my brother's name?"

"Here…umm, Ansem Weems. He's got a local address," Sam said.

"He lives here?" Andy asked.

"Let's get a look at him. There's a picture coming from the DMV right now," Dean grabbed the picture from the fax machine and looked stunned. He showed Bridget who looked just as stunned. They had already met him. "I hate to kick you while you're freaked, but uh…take a look," he handed it to Andy who's eyes widened. It was Webber, the lacky from the diner.

They were back I'm the car moments later, Andy in the backseat with Bridget. "All right, Andy. Tell us everything you know about this guy."

"Webber show up one day…eight months ago acting like he's my best friend in the world. Kind of weird…trying too hard, you know?"

Bridget saw Sam cringe. "Sam?"

He let out a groan and she moved past Andy on the seat to get closer to Sam. "Sammy, shit, another vision…"

Sam thrashed and clutched at his head. "Dammit, Dean, pull over, this is bad."

The minute the car had stopped Bridget was out the back door opening Sam's passenger door. "Sam!" He all but fell out of the seat. She clutched at his face, "Hey, Sam, sweety, hey…"

Dean had already slid next to her, "Sammy?"

He groaned from the pain and she helped him sit back up, sitting next to him in the car, wiping the sweat from his face. "What was it?"

"Ansem…he has Tracy."

"What?" Andy said bolting forward from the back seat.

"You sure?" Dean asked.

"We have to help her!" Andy exclaimed in panic.

"In a minute," Bridget said.

"No, we have to go now!" he demanded.

Bridget snapped her head to him, still aiding Sam at his side as her eyes blazed and she pointed a finger at him. "Listen, Mind Freak. Your little powers don't work on me and if you try to use them on Dean I will not hesitate to throw you out of the car by sheer force of will because my temper will allow it with a blink. So shut up and sit tight and we'll rescue your little girlfriend, okay?"

Andy settled back against the seat, still pouting but shutting up. She turned back to Sam. "You feelin' better?"

He nodded slightly, "Yeah, let's go."

"I'm gonna sit up her with you, I'll take the middle 'cause you're too tall," she told him and shut the passenger door as Dean went around. She moved over Sam's lap and paused when he put his hand on her waist. She turned her head to him, surprised to see a smile on his face and a familiar glint in his eye. "I ever tell you that you're hot when you're bossy?"

"I'm usually hot anyway," she smiled back.

"Hotter than usual. This will be continued later," he said and squeezed her side for emphasis.

She grinned and moved off his lap, "Glad to know you're feeling better so fast. Visions seem to boost your libido."

Dean had entered the car for the last part and let out a disgusted sound, "Ughh! Can you not say that stuff? Jeez, we're on a job."

"It's saved for later, don't worry," Bridget promised him.

"Good to know," he said and drove off towards their destination to save Tracy.

* * *

They pulled up to an empty section of road not far from the bridge to not alarm Ansem and get him to hurt Tracy faster. Bridge was loading a gun from the trunk and tucking a knife into her boot for good measure.

"Dean, you should probably stay back," Bridget suggested since he was the only one who could be affected.

"No argument here," he said, holding up his hands. "I've had my head screwed with enough for one day…by all three of you."

"I'm coming with you," Andy volunteered.

"Andy-." Sam started but he interrupted.

"Look, if it's Tracy out there…then I'm coming."

Bridget nodded, "Okay…"

Not five minutes later they were walking slowly towards the bridge where the car was parked. Bridget waved Sam to follow and slowly they headed towards the car, guns drawn and pointed down. Sam gestured for Andy to stop at the tail end of the car and to duck. He did so and Bridget moved with Sam to the driver's side. He didn't hesitate to smash the window open. "Get out of the car! Now!"

"You really don't want to do this," Ansem said with a smile.

Bridget smiled back and punched him in the face, "I think I do. Now, get out."

Andy got Tracy safely out of the car and hugged her close. Ansem was dragged out of the car and Sam roughly shoved him to the ground. "Hey! Don't move."

Andy placed duck tape over Ansem's mouth and kicked him. Bridget pulled him off, "Hey! Hey! Knock it off! We will handle this, cool it, Andy!"

"I will kill you," he threatened Ansem.

"Let us handle this," Sam said joining Bridget. Neither noticed Ansem focusing on Tracy with his eyes. Not until the tree branch hit Bridget in the back then Sam once he turned around.

Bridget hit the ground with a wince and a sharp pain in her back.

"Tracy, stop! I said stop," she heard Andy demand. She moved to her side to see him talk to Ansem. "How'd you do it?"

Ansem pulled the tape from his mouth. "Practice, bro. If you'd just practice, you would know. Sometimes, you don't need to use your words. If you have to, all you need is this," he pointed at his head. "Sometimes, the headache is worth it."

"You're a twisted son of a bitch," Andy growled and grabbed his brother.

Bridget turned her head to look at Sam, he was out cold. She scooted closer, he was still breathing and the cut to his head had stopped bleeding from where he'd been hit. He'd be okay, but this wasn't going well at all. She reached her hand down slowly and got the knife from her boot, hiding it in one hand. She groaned and pushed her way to her feet as Ansem said "We can make them do whatever we want."

"No, not true. You can't make me," she said and got shakily to her feet.

"I can do what I want to anyone."

"Try me," she said with a tired mumble, standing in front of Sam out of habit to protect him.

He focused his eyes on her and his smile fell at the edges. She smiled at him, still in pain. "You can't control me. I'm not like either of you, but I'm different on my own, which actually makes me more special I'd like to think. Born with it, not given to it. So why kill people instead of talking to your brother, huh? Seems retarded if you ask me."

"I wanted to call him," he looked at Andy. "I did, but he wouldn't let me. He told me to wait."

"Who?" Andy asked.

"The man with the yellow eyes."

Bridget gasped and felt momentarily light headed. He had talked to Ansem. That wasn't good, her grip tightened on the knife.

"What are you talking about?" Andy asked.

"He came to me in my dream. He said I was special. He told me he's got big plans for me. Wait til you see what's in store, Andy, for both of us," he said excitedly. "See, he's the one who told me I got a brother. A twin."

"Why did you kill our mom? And Jennings?"

"Because they split us up," he said angrily. They ruined our lives! We could've been together this whole time, instead of alone. I couldn't let 'em get do that. I couldn't let 'em get away with that. No," he paused suddenly and Bridget frowned, wondering what he was sensing. "I see you," he said and Bridget turned to see Dean behind the tree and her breath caught in her throat. She watched as Dean took the gun he had and pointed it under his chin.

"Dean! No!" she yelled and heard a gunshot go off. She felt her heart skip a few beats as a hand flew to her mouth. From the corner of her eye she saw Ansem collapse to the ground dead, Andy still holding the gun, a determined look on his face.

Bridget dropped the knife in her hand and despite the pain in her back ran full force to where Dean was behind the tree. She skidded to a halt and threw her arms around him before even could register what had happened. "Oh my God! Are you okay? You big idiot! What the hell were you thinking? He could have killed you! God, he almost did!"

"I'm fine, Bridget," Dean said still a bit stiff. He pulled her back to look at her. "Are you and Sam okay?"

She nodded, tears in her eyes from relief that he was unharmed and not dead. "A little beat up from a stick but we're okay. God," she hugged him tight again, burying her face in his shoulder near his neck, "don't you ever scare me like that again."

He relaxed under her embrace and nodded, "All right, I won't." He wanted to sit there holding her but it was getting light out and cops would be there soon. And Sam was starting to sit up from where he was knocked out. He helped Bridget stand up. "Come on, let's go help Sam."

Bridget kneeled down next to Sam as he rubbed at his head, "Did I miss much?"

"Andy killed Ansem, it's all you need to know, That and we were no match for a tree branch."

Dean helped haul him to his feet, "A tree huh? Wow, what's next, Sammy?"

"Bite me," he mumbled rubbing at his head as the police started to show up. They stood back and let Andy take care of all the pretty words that needed to be said while they watched.

"Look at him," Sam said. "He's getting better at it."

Andy walked away from the cops and they watched him smile at Tracy who looked away. His smile turned to a pained look as he walked towards them. "She won't even look at me."

"Yeah, she's pretty shaken up…but she's got a good arm," Bridget said, wincing as she shifted her feet.

"No it's – it's different," Andy shook his head. "I never used my mind thing on her before…before last night. She's scared of me now."

"Andy, I hate to do this, but…we have to get out of here," Sam told him. He handed him a piece of paper. "Here, I wrote down my cell. You don't have to be alone in this. If anything comes up, you call me up."

Sam and Dean started walking away and Bridget paused long enough for him to ask her, "What do I do now?"

"You be good, Andy. Just be good," she touched his arm. "And stay away from the yellow eyed man. He's bad news believe me…pure evil and a good liar. Don't trust him, Andy, okay. Just don't." She walked away then and caught up to Sam and Dean.

"Looks like I was right," Sam said.

"About what?" Dean asked.

"Andy, he's a killer after all."

"No, he's a hero," Bridget corrected him. "He saved Tracy and he saved Dean."

"Bottom line is, last night he wasted somebody."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "But he's not foaming at the mouth psycho. He was pushed to do that."

"Webber was pushed, too, in his own way. Max Miller was pushed. Hell, I was pushed by Jessica's death."

"What the point, Sam?" Bridget asked getting irritated.

"Right circumstances, everyone's capable of murder. Everyone. Maybe that's what the demon's doing – pushing us, finding ways to beak us."

"Sam, we don't know what the demon wants, okay? Quit worrying about it," Dean said.

"You know, I heard you before, Dean. When Andy made you tell the truth. You're just as scared as I am."

"That was mind control!"

"What?"

"No, I'm calling a do over," Dean said.

"What are you, seven?"

"He sure does act it," Bridget snorted.

"Doesn't matter," Dean said. "We've just gotta keep doing what we're doing, find that evil son of a bitch and kill it."

His cell rang at that moment and he answered it. "Hello?...Ellen…what's going on?...Yeah, we'll be right there." He hung up and gestured for them to follow. "Come on."

"Something up at Ellen's?" Bridget asked as they walked towards the Impala.

"She needs to see us."

"Good or bad?"

He shrugged, "No idea."

"That usually means bad," she groaned and got in the backseat with a wince.

The drive to Ellen's wasn't too long. She managed to clean Sam's cut and gave up when he refused a band aid. Then she lay in the back seat with an ice pack on her back and a confirmed bruise when Sam leaned over to take a look at it. Apparently she had a nice shade of purple tinting the middle part of her back.

She stared at the Roadhouse with a grumble and got out of the car, following the brothers and not protesting at all when Sam slipped his hand into hers. They sat at the bar in the empty saloon. Ellen was quick to get rid of her daughter. "Jo? Go pull up another case of beer."

"Mom-."

"Now. Please?" Jo grumbled and left the room. Once Ellen was gone she set her gaze on the three. "So, you wanna tell me about this last hunt of yours?"

"No. Not really," Dean said and didn't waver under her glare. "No offense, just…it's kind of a family thing."

"Not anymore," she set some paperwork on the bar. "I got this stuff from Ash. Andrew Gallagher's house burnt down on his six month birthday, just like your house and just like Bridget's. You think it was the demon in all three cases, don't you? You think it went after Gallagher's family?"

"Yeah, we think so," Sam agreed.

"Sam," Dean warned him.

"Why?" Ellen asked.

"None of your business," Dean snapped.

"You mind your tone with me, boy. This isn't you war, this is a war. Now, something big and bad is coming and it's coming fast, and their side holds all the cards. Now, at best, all we've got is us, together. No secrets or half truths here."

Sam squeezed her hand and she squeezed back, biting her lower lip with a nod. He took a deep breath, "There are people out there, like Andrew Gallagher…like me. And, um…we all have some kind of ability."

"Ability?" she repeated.

"Yeah…a psychic ability," he said and Dean shook his head angrily. Bridget glared at him to not speak and he didn't.

"So…," she shifted her eyes to Bridget. "You're one of them?"

"No."

"But your house burnt down."

"Yeah, but it was after my nephew…it wanted to kill me but decided to let me live because he liked my misery…then when he found out I was a threat like my brother had been, it was too late. He couldn't kill me anymore."

"You're a threat? Why?"

She shrugged, "Maybe because I've always been different. I was born with it though. My brother was the same."

"You got a power to?"

"Couple of 'em, picture dreams where things I see will always happen and I draw them out…if I'm really…emotional I can move things, its complicated let's not get into that right now."

Sam finished. "Me – I have visions – premonitions. I don't know, it's different for everybody. The demon said he had plans for people like us."

"What kind of plans?"

"We don't really know for sure," Sam said.

"These people out there, these psychics – are they dangerous?" Ellen asked.

"No," Dean answered quickly. "Not all of them."

"But some are," Sam corrected. "Some are _very_ dangerous."

"Okay," she sighed. "How many of 'em are we lookin' at?"

Dean answered, "We've been able to track a clear pattern so far. They've all had house fires on the night of the kid's six month birthday."

"That's not true," Sam shook his head.

"What?" Dean asked confused, even Bridget wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"Webber, or Ansem, or whatever his name was – I looked at his files, and there was no house fire. He's nothing out of the ordinary."

"Which breaks the pattern. So, if there's any others like him, there'll be nothing in the system. No way to track 'em all down," Ellen pointed out.

"And so, who knows how many of them are really out there?" Dean said.

"And how many are evil like Webber…" Bridget added feeling the energy seep from her body.

"Jo, honey?" Ellen called her daughter when she entered the room.

"Yeah?"

"You better break out the whiskey instead," she said and the room became silent, Bridget still holding Sam's hand as the day just became longer.


	22. S2 No Exit

**DISCLAIMER: I only own Bridget. Sorry its been awhile. Its midterm week. **

**S2 EP28 NO EXIT**

Bridget adjusted her sunglasses as they stood by the Impala outside the Roadhouse. They had stayed there the last two days, separate rooms down the hall as promised so Dean didn't have to hear them. They were discussing their next case.

"Los Angeles, California," Dean said.

"Not that I'm not excited to go to L.A., but what's there?" Bridget asked.

"A young girl has been kidnapped by an evil cult," he said.

"Yeah? Girl got a name?" Sam asked.

"Katie Holmes," Dean joked.

Sam laughed, "That's funny. And for you, so bitchy."

They heard arguing coming from inside the Roadhouse. Mom and daughter were going at it again. Bridget gestured at the building, "Of course, on the other hand – we got a cat fight."

"Shall we?" Sam asked.

Bridget sighed and nodded, pushing off the car. "Let's check it out, but stay out of the way."

"Easier said than done," Dean mumbled.

"Don't you bet on it, sweetie!" They heard Ellen yell as they walked in, pausing in the door to see the two in a heated argument.

"What are you gonna do?" Jo yelled. "Are you gonna chain me up in the basement?"

"You know what? You've had worse ideas than that recently! Hey, if you don't wanna stay, don't stay! Go back to school!"

"I didn't belong there! I was a freak with a knife collection!"

"Yeah, but getting yourself killed in some dusty backroad, _that's_ where you belong?"

They seemed to notice the three of them standing in the doorway. Ellen took a deep breath, "Guys, this is not a good time."

"Yes, ma'am," Sam nodded.

"Yeah, we rarely drink before ten anyway," Bridget agreed.

They turned and headed for the door but not quick enough. "Wait!" Jo said and they winced turning around slightly. "I wanna know what they think about this."

"I don't care what they think," Ellen hissed.

The phone rang and Ellen answered. Jo took her chance to hold the file out to Dean. "Three weeks ago, a young girl disappears from a Philadelphia apartment," Dean stared at it. "Take it, it won't bite."

"No, but uh, you're mom might," Dean said but took it.

"And this girl wasn't the first. Over the past eighty years, six women have vanished – all from the same building, all young blondes. Only happens every decade or two, so cops never eyeball the pattern. So, we're either dealing with one very old serial killer or-."

"Who put this together? Ash?" Dean asked.

"I did it myself."

"I've got to admit, we've hit the road for a lot less," Sam said.

"Yeah, and for once this guy has a type and I'm not it," Bridget added,

"Good," Ellen said. "If you like the case, it's yours."

"Mom!" Jo exclaimed, spinning around to face her.

"Joanna Beth, this family has lost enough. I won't lose you, too. I won't."

Bridget, Sam, and Dean stayed awkwardly silent, unsure if they should move or much less breathe. Bridget took a chance. "Thanks Ellen. We'll look into it," she tapped both boys on the shoulder and unfroze them from their spots. They left and didn't look back to see the angry disappointed look on Jo's face.

* * *

A road trip later and they were in the apartment building the girl had disappeared in. The EMF meters weren't picking up anything just yet.

"I feel kind of bad, snaking Jo's case," Sam admitted, checking the walls.

"Yeah, maybe she put together a good file. But could you see her out here, working one of these things? I don't think so," Dean said. "Getting anything?"

"No, not yet," Bridget said and paused when she saw the outlet on the wall. "What the hell is that?"

"What?" Dean asked.

Sam was already looking at it. "Holy crap."

Dean touched the goo, "That's ectoplasm. Well, I think I know what we're dealing with here…it's the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man."

Bridget rolled her eyes, "Dean, I've only seen this stuff twice. Both times when I was working with you and your dad and its only when there's a majorly pissed off spirit like the one had cut my leg three years ago."

"Yeah, that had been a pissed off demon," he nodded. "All right, let's find this badass before he snags anymore girls."

"Least he goes for blondes," Bridget sighed in relief as they exited the hallway. The three paused hearing a familiar voice and turned the corner seeing Jo standing there with the superintendent.

"Oh my God," Bridget said. "Why do I think she ran away and Ellen doesn't know?"

"Because Ellen is going to hunt us down and kill us," Sam nodded his head.

Dean was already walking towards her and they followed, "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked Jo.

"There you are, honey," Jo smiled and put her arms around his waist. "This is my boyfriend, Dean, and his buddy Sam and his girlfriend, Bridget."

"Good to meet you," the superintendent smiled. "Quite a girl you got here."

He chuckled dryly. "Oh yeah, she's a pistol."

"So, did you already check out the apartment. The one for rent?"

"Yeah, yes," Dean nodded. "Loved it. Great flow."

"How'd you get in?" he asked.

"It was open," Bridget cut in.

"Now, Ed, when did the last tenant move out?" Jo asked him.

"Oh, about a month ago. Cut and run too. Stiffed me for rent," he grumbled.

Jo laughed, "Well, her loss and our gain. 'Cause if Dean-o loves it, that's good enough for me."

"Oh sweetie," he smiled, hitting her hard on the back.

Jo handed Ed a wad of cash. "We'll take it."

He seemed stunned but took the money, "Okay…"

Bridget and Sam exchanged a look, fireworks were about to start but not as big as the mushroom cloud that would soon be boiling at the roadhouse.

* * *

Bridget made busy with cleaning her knives as Sam did cleaning the guns in the case. Jo seemed to think it was all some sort of joke, a game. "I'll flip you for the sofa."

Dean shook his head, "Does your mother even know you're here?"

"I told her I was going to Vegas."

Bridget snorted, "You think she's really gonna buy that?"

"I'm not an idiot. I got Ash to lay a credit card trail all the way to the casinos," she said.

"You know you shouldn't lie to your mom. You shouldn't be here, either. This isn't a job for girl's."

Jo pointed to Bridget who was sharpening one of her knives on a slate. "Bridget is a girl and she works with you."

Dean dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "Bridget doesn't count as a girl."

She stopped sharpening her blade and glared at Dean. Without looking she flipped the knife in her hand and threw it at the Winchester. It stuck in his shirt pinning him to the wall. His eyes widened and he turned to Bridget. "At the same time I'm scared and awed by you right now and slightly turned on. That was a nice shot."

Bridget walked over to him and removed the blade, looking him dead in the eyes. "I missed…keep it up with your mouth though and I won't miss next time."

Dean looked a little scared by that thought and Sam changed the subject. "Where'd you get all the money?"

"Working at the Roadhouse."

"Hunters don't tip that well," Dean said inspecting the hole in his jacket.

"They're not that good at poker either."

Dean's phone rang and he flipped it open. "Yeah?...oh Hi Ellen…" he gave Jo a smug smile and she started silently arguing with him until Dean spoke in his phone through clenched teeth. "Nope, I haven't seen her…yeah, I'm sure…Absolutely…"

He hung up, glaring at Jo as she smiled brightly. Bridget shook her head in disbelief. This little girl was going to get them all in trouble. Big trouble.

* * *

Research came later and Bridget sat at the table next to Sam going over some of the papers as Jo talked. "This place was built in 1924. It was originally a warehouse, converted into apartments a few months ago."

Dean was pacing. Bridget couldn't blame him. Ellen would ski him alive once she found out he was lying. "Yeah? What was here before 1924?"

"Nothing. Empty field."

"So, most likely scenario – someone died bloody in the building, and now he's back and raising hell.

Jo shook her head, flipping the knife in her hand. "I already checked. In the past eighty two years, zero violent deaths, unless you count the janitor slipping on the wet floor," she looked at Dean. "Can you please sit down?"

He exchanged a look with the other two, Bridget shrugged and Sam nodded and he sat. "So, have you checked the police reports? County death records?"

"Obituaries, mortuary reports, and seven other sources. I know what I'm doing."

Bridget turned her snort into a cough.

"I think the jury's still out on that one," he said agreeing with her. "Could you put the knife down?"

"Okay," Sam said. "So, it's something else, then. Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought the spirit with it."

"That means we gotta check whatever we can get to," Dean said. "Okay so, Jo you're with Bridget, you two take the top two floors."

"What?" Bridget exclaimed. "Why me?"

"You got the protection bubble," Dean pointed at her necklace. "You're safest."

Bridget grumbled, tucking a salt pistol at her back and grabbing a flashlight. "Let's go, young one."

Jo was just as reluctant as they reached the top floor. "You know we can split up if you want?"

"No, you're sticking with me," Bridget told her scanning with the EMF reader. "You're blonde after all. Just his taste."

"Exactly."

"You want to be bait?" Bridget asked her raising an eyebrow.

"Quickest way to draw it out."

"Quickest way to get killed, trust me on that. I'm usually the bait – reluctantly," she added on seeing as how she'd been hung and nearly drowned not to mention hooked in the leg and nearly beheaded. Not fun being bait.

"Least you get to do the job."

"Least you have a mother who worries about you," Bridget countered, scanning the wall. "You'll miss it when you don't have it anymore."

"Bridget, why did you want to do this job?" Jo asked her.

She snorted. "It wasn't by choice…more or less destiny."

"You want to be normal?"

"What's wrong with normal?" she shrugged.

"It's boring."

She shook her head and stopped walking, "What would you know, Jo? You don't work out there like we do."

"No, but I want too."

"No," she said again a little more sternly. "You don't."

"Yes, I do."

"Why?"

"Because of the danger, the excitement."

Bridget cut her off with a dry laugh and turned to face her fully. "The danger? The excitement? Tell me Jo, what is exciting about watching the house you lived in burn? Where's the fun in watching your own family, your brother and your nephew die in a fire? Where is the excitement in holding the love of your life in your arms while he bleeds to death as the house you just mentioned burns with your family in it? Huh, Jo? What is so alluring about that? Ask Sammy what was exciting about watching Jess die? Or Dean about his mother's death? Ask them both what was so exciting about their dad dying? Please, Jo, I'm begging to hear your answer to this one."

The blonde girl remained silent, unsure of what to say and Bridget nodded. "That's what I thought…you're the lucky one…you have a Mom still…"

Bridget walked a head of her and Jo followed.

Bridget sniffed the air with a frown. "You smell that?"

"What is it? A gas leak?" she asked, face scrunching.

"No, it's something else," she bent down near the vent and pulled. It was locked. With a frustrated sigh she held her hand over it, focusing on the screws.

"Whoa," Jo said, watching the screws fall out. "How are you doing that?"

Her head was starting to hurt slightly from the force of using it but the panel came off with the screws and she looked inside with her flashlight. "I'm different…there's something in there…here," she pulled out a clump of blonde hair in disgust. "Oh God…somebody's keeping souvenirs."

"Whoa…we better get back."

Bridget nodded and stood, heading back to the apartment. Sam and Dean were inside, "Did you find anything?" Dean asked.

She dropped the clump of hair on the table and both boys looked shocked. "It was stuck in a vent that smelt of sulfur on the upper floor."

"Looks like we got something after all," Dean said.

"Oh yeah, now I'm going to go shower and go to bed. Sam and I get the room," she said heading towards the bedroom.

"But-."

"I said we get the room," she said sternly and shut the door behind her.

Dean and Sam looked at Jo at the slam of the door. "You two have a cat fight?" Dean asked.

"Not really."

Sam nodded and cleared his throat, "I'm gonna go see what's up."

"Good luck," Dean muttered and waited for the door to shut to slant his gaze at Jo. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," she shrugged, lying on the couch.

"Bridget doesn't usually get upset over nothin'," Dean told her.

Jo opened a book. "No idea…"

Dean shook his head, letting it go as he tried to get comfortable in the armchair that was far too lumpy for his liking.

* * *

Bridget sat next to Sam at the table, spinning a spoon in her coffee as she looked out the window of the building. She was still in a dark mood after the argument with the teenager last night. The said teenager was currently rousing Dean from his sleep as she twirled her knife in her hand. "Morning, princess."

Dean grumbled rubbing at his eyes as Bridget pushed the coffee pot across the table towards him as he approached. "Ugh, my back," he glared at Bridget. "How'd you two sleep in that big ass bed?"

"It was great," Bridget mumbled, still twirling the spoon in her cup.

"Come on," Sam said and gestured with his head for her to follow as he stood up.

Bridget glanced at him. "Where?"

He held his good hand out to her. "For a walk with me in the park a block from here."

"Why?" she asked with a slight smile.

"Just because."

She put her hand in his and allowed him to help her up. Sam didn't let go of her hand as they walked away and she leaned her head on his shoulder, wrapping her other arm around his and closing the door behind them.

"What's Bridget's story?" Jo asked after a few minutes of silence once they left.

"Huh?" Dean asked unsure if he heard her correctly.

"Why does Bridget do this job? She wasn't raised as a hunter like you and your brother so why does she do it?"

"Why do you ask?" Dean questioned her wondering if this had anything to do with the mood Bridget was in.

She sighed in defeat, "I think I might have offended her last night and I wanted to know what made her choose this."

Dean cleared his throat, rubbing at his eyes with his hand. "Uhh…not sure I should say."

"Please, Dean," Jo pleaded, twirling her knife still.

He blew out a breath and nodded, leaning forward a bit. "She's gonna kill me…You're right. Bridget wasn't raised on hunting like me and Sammy. Hell, she had a normal life, least as normal as it could be. Her parents died in an accident, a normal accident when she was a kid and it was just her and her older brother Derek."

"Were they close?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "I knew Derek…we went to high school together for a brief time…he was three years older than me but man he could throw a football like no one's business, I didn't know he had a little sister though not until I met her a few years ago…anyway, her and Derek were really close even before the accident. Accidents just have a way of making bonds tighter, not to mention Derek dropped medical school after his parents died and his aunt was done with them because Bridge was still a minor and he wanted to be able to take care of her and support her, make sure she got through the rest of high school and into college and all that crap. Which, you know, she did cuz Bridge is smart."

"Okay so what's all this got to do with now?"

"I'm gettin' there," he rolled his eyes. "You need the background before you get the ending. Okay, so in that time of Bridge being fifteen to her being eighteen and in college, Derek got married to his sweetheart, Lydia. And while in college Bridget met Will and those two kids hit it off. Couple years later she's engaged to him and they planned on gettin' married sometime after her nephew was born."

"Sounds like a good life."

"Yeah," he nodded sipped his coffee. "It was…about a year later, after her nephew was born and six months old…there was a fire in the house…Lydia had gone up to check on the baby and after awhile they wondered what was takin' her…so Derek goes up and a few minutes later Bridget and Will hear him yell and they run up…but it's too late…the fire started and spread. She said she saw Lydia on the ceiling and Derek had the baby…but the roof fell on him, she tried to get to him and Will had to drag her away before she died in the fire with them. He got her outside and they watched the house burn…just when it couldn't have gotten worse next thing Bridget knew Will shouted her name and shoved her out of the way. She saw a blonde woman with piercing eyes disappearing into the dark and then saw Will bleeding from the chest…he died in her arms before the fire department got there…her whole family dead…not long later she saves my ass on a hunt and asks my dad to join up…been with us ever since."

Jo was silent for a moment, "Oh my God…"

He nodded, "Yeah…three years later we get Sammy from school…the rest is history."

"I didn't know," she mumbled and ran a hand through her blonde hair. "She looks so happy."

"Bridge is a tough chick."

"How long have she and Sam been together?"

"Uhh…few months I think," he shrugged and watched her twirl the knife more. He reached into the duffel bag on the other chair and pulled out a larger knife handing it to her. "Here."

"What's this for?" she asked with a frown.

"It'll work a hell of a lot better than that little stick you've been twirling around."

Silently, Jo handed him her knife and he read the initials on the side of it. W.A.H.

"William Anthony Harvelle," Jo said sadly.

"I'm sorry…my mistake," he handed her father's knife back to her.

"What do you…what do you remember about your dad? I mean, what's the first thing that pops into your head?"

Dean took a deep breath after a long pause. "I was six or seven and uh…he took me shooting for the first time. Bottles on a fence – that kind of thing. I bull's eyed every one of 'em. And he gave me this smile like…I don't know."

"He must have been proud."

"What about your dad?" he asked changing it.

She smiled sadly, "I was in pigtails when my dad died, but…I remember him coming home from a hunt and he'd burst through the door like Steve McQueen or something. And he'd sweep me up in his arms and I'd breathe in that old leather jacket of his. And my mom, who was sour pissed from the time he left – she'd start smiling again. And we were…we were a family…you wanna know why I wanna do this job? For him. It's my way of being close to him. Now, tell me, what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Dean said and there was silence until Bridget and Sam came through the door looking more serious than they'd left.

"What's up?" Dean asked.

"There are cops outside," Bridget answered. "Another girl disappeared last night."

* * *

"Theresa Ellis – apartment 2-F," Dean read off his research. "Her boyfriend reported her missing around dawn."

"And her apartment?" Jo asked.

"Cracks all over the plaster – walls, ceiling. There's ectoplasm, too," Sam said.

"Between that and that tuft of hair, I'd say this sucker is coming from the walls," Bridget added.

"Yeah, but who is it? The building's history is totally clean," Dean said.

Jo was looking at a photo. "Maybe we're looking in the wrong place."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Check this out," she handed him the photo.

"An empty field?" Sam questioned.

"It's where the building was built. Take a look at the one next door," Jo said.

Bridget noticed the bars on it. "Bars on the windows…"

"We're next door to a prison?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"I'll call Ash," Jo was already pushing a button on her phone and talking on the other side of the room.

"This just gets more and more interesting," Bridget sighed.

"Interesting or disturbing?" Sam asked her from her left.

"Since when is there a difference in our line of work?"

"Touché," he shrugged.

Jo hung up her phone and came back over to them. "Okay. Moyamensing Prison was built in 1835, torn down in 1963. And get this – they used to execute people by hanging them in the empty field next door."

"We need a list of all the people executed there," Sam said.

The laptop flashed on the table, indicating email. "Ash just sent it."

Bridget clicked a few buttons on Sam's screen and uploaded the file. Her eyes widened. "157 names…"

"We've got to narrow that down," Dean said with a heavy sigh.

Bridget cracked her knuckles with a smile and typed away at the keys, "I'm already on it." She hit a few more buttons and narrowed it to five.

Sam leaned in with a frown at the first name on the list. "Herman Webster Mudgett?"

"Yeah?" Jo asked.

"Wasn't that H.H. Holmes real name?"

Bridget and Dean paled and he shook his head, "You've got to be kidding me."

Bridget typed in at the keys again. "Please tell me he's joking," she mumbled to herself. The news paper came up on the computer. "Dammit…"

"Yup," Dean nodded, reading it over her shoulder. "Holmes was executed at Moyamensing May 7, 1896."

"H.H. Holmes himself."

Bridget shook her head, "Come on, I mean, what are the odds?"

"Who _is_ this guy?" Jo asked after sitting clueless.

"The term 'multi murderer' – they coined it to describe Holmes. He was America's first serial killer before anybody knew what a serial killer was," Dean explained.

"Yeah, he confessed to twenty-seven murders, but some put the death toll to over a hundred," Bridget added on.

"And his victim of choice was pretty petite blondes," Sam put in. "He used chloroform to kill them, which is what Sammy and I smelt last night. At his home the police found bone fragments, locks of bloody blonde hair."

"So, we'll just find the bones, salt them, and burn them right?" Jo asked.

Bridget snorted. "Well, it's not that easy. His body is buried in town, but it's encased n a couple tons of concrete."

"What? Why?"

"Story goes that he didn't want anybody mutilating his body, cause that's what he used to do," Dean told her.

"You know something…we might have a bigger problem than that," Sam said.

"How does this get bigger?" Jo asked with a roll of her eyes.

"Holmes built an apartment building in Chicago. They called it The Murder Castle. The whole place was a death factory. They had trapdoors, acid vats, quicklime pits. He built these secret chambers…inside the walls. He'd lock his victims in, keep them alive for days. Some he'd suffocate, other's he'd let starve to death."

"So, Teresa could still be alive. She could be _inside_ these walls," Jo said.

"We need a sledgehammer, crowbars – we've gotta smash these walls anywhere thick enough to hide a girl," said Dean, standing to his feet.

* * *

They had split apart. This time Bridget went with Sam, less chance of her killing Jo that way. And it was a good thing since she was inside the wall passage with Sam, pressed tightly to him. Usually she'd try something crude with it but seeing as how they were looking for a girl captured by serial killer Holmes now was not the time.

"You know," Bridget said as she squeezed through behind Sam. "For once I'm really glad I'm not the bait type."

"Crazy killer kidnapping girls – I'm glad you aren't either."

"Awe, you do care," she teased.

"You and your defensive sarcasm. You're like my brother sometimes."

"And you love me so it works. Do you see anything?"

Sam shook his head and did his best to turn around to face her. "No, there's a dead end and the maps show nothing that way but the next apartment."

"Great," she winced uncomfortably at the space. "Guess we should move back."

"Good idea, I'm feeling claustrophobic in here."

"A 6'4 man feeling claustrophobic in a five foot space, never thought I'd hear that," she snorted and moved her way through.

"You're small, you fit in here easier," he said and knocked his head on a low beam, rubbing at the spot.

She giggled, "Awe, for once it pays to be short." Bridget moved out of the hole in the wall with ease, smiling as Sam struggled to get out, tripping twice when he caught his foot in the hole. "Gee, think the land lord will notice the gigantic hole we created."

"He'll never know t was us and that's all that matters," he said and grabbed her hand moving down the hall to find Dean and Jo.

It didn't take long before Dean practically ran into them. "Whoa," Sam said, steadying his brother who came flying around the corner.

"He got Jo!" Dean spat.

"What?" Bridget asked concerned now even though the girl was a pain in her ass. "How'd that happen?"

"I wasn't with her, I left her alone. Damn it!"

"You left her alone," Bridget said wide eyed. "She's _exactly_ his type and you left her alone? Are you insane?"

"Let's just calm down," Sam said moving in-between them. "We'll find her, all right?"

"Where?" Dean asked.

"Inside the walls," Sam said.

"We've been inside the walls all night. If none of the other girls are there, she won't be either," Dean said as they entered the apartment.

"Look, try to take a beat and think about this," Sam said calmly. "Maybe we got Holmes M.O. wrong."

"Wrong? He's taking blonde girls. He didn't even try to take me at all and I'm very takeable," Bridget said. "He has Jo and now we gotta rescue her ass before things get any worse."

Dean's phone rang and he answered it. "Yeah…" he paled and his eyes widened. "Ellen."

Bridget and Sam's heads snapped towards Dean as they tried to listen in but only heard Dean's side. "She's gonna have to call you back. She's taking care of feminine business," Bridget rolled her eyes. Ellen wasn't going to buy that. "Look, we'll get her back." Now they both winced, Dean told Ellen her daughter was missing…great. "The spirit we're hunting, it took her…she'll be okay, I promise." Dean frowned at something she said. "What?...It won't. I won't let it. Ellen, I'm really sorry."

Ellen must have hung up because Dean swore snapping his phone shut.

"Don't beat yourself up, Dean. There's nothing you could have done," Sam told him.

"Tell me you two have got something."

"Maybe," Bridget laid out the plans. "Look, if you look at the layout of the Holmes Murder Castle, there's other torture chambers inside the walls, right?"

"Right," Dean nodded.

"But there's one we haven't considered," Sam pointed. "The basement."

"It's always the basement," Bridget sighed.

"This building doesn't have a basement," Dean said.

"You're right. It doesn't. But Bridget and I noticed this – beneath the foundation, it looks like part of an old sewer system. It hasn't been used for-."

"Let's go," Dean announced grabbing a bag and heading out the door. Bridget and Sam exchanged a look but followed him out anyway.

* * *

"No…this doesn't scream suspicious at all," Bridget mumbled as they walked down the street, Dean carrying a metal detector and Sam a shovel across the field. The metal detector started to beep frantically and Dean took a shovel from Sam, handing Bridget the detector as the two started digging until they uncovered a trapdoor. The two boys pulled and revealed a hole with a ladder leading down. Bridget put down the metal detector and checked her gun, making sure it was loaded with rock salt. She sighed and gestured at the hole. "Shall we?"

Dean was first to climb down and Bridget followed, ending it with Sam. The three walked down the path towards a set of heavy double door at the end of the long tunnel.

"You think they're alive?" Sam asked.

The sound of someone screaming answered the question and they hurried for the door. Peaking through the small doorway they saw Holmes standing there, his arm through a small gate. "Hey!" Dean yelled and shot at him. He vanished and the three hurried into the room, Dean approaching the metal case. "Jo?"

"I'm here," she shouted and Dean took out a crowbar to open her cage.

Bridget moved over to another case, peaking in to see another scared blonde. It was Teresa. "We're gonna get you out of here, okay?"

"Sam, Bridge," he handed the crowbar to Sam and they worked on opening Teresa's cage while Dean got Jo out.

"You all right," Dean asked her.

"Been better," she said, crawling out. "Let's get the hell out of here before he comes back."

"Actually," he put an arm out stopping her. "I don't think you're leaving here just yet."

"What?" she asked scared out of her mind as Bridget and Sam helped Teresa out. She clung to Sam, still shaking.

"Remember when I said you being bait was a bad plan? Now it's kind of the only plan we got," Dean explained. "Bridget's not blonde."

"Thank God," she snorted.

Jo sighed, "What do I have to do?"

* * *

Jo now sat in the middle if the room, waiting alone in the room, the others out of sight and it didn't take long for Holmes to appear. Jo ducked out of the way as the three popped out of their hiding places, shooting the bags lined around the room, pouring out the salt. Jo climbed out of the ring of salt and they watched Holmes now trapped in his own room, surrounded by a ring of salt. Holmes realized he was trapped and started to scream.

"Scream all you want, dick, but there's no way you're stepping over that salt," Jo yelled as he continued to scream. They locked the door behind them and left the sewer

"So, is this job as glamorous as you thought it would be?" Bridget asked her once they were back on the meadow.

"Well, except for all the pee your pants terror, yeah," she said and the others laughed. "But that Teresa girl is gonna live 'cause of us. It is worth it, isn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah it is," Sam nodded.

"Hey, what if someone finds the sewer down there or a storm washes the salt away?" Jo asked.

"Both very good points which is why we're waiting here," Bridget said.

"For what?" she asked and heard a beeping, turning to see a cement trap backing up towards the hole.

"For that," Sam smiled.

"You ripped off a cement truck?" Jo asked and Dean shrugged.

"I'll give it back," he smirked. He pushed a lever on the truck and the cement flowed down into the hole. "Well, that'll keep him down there til hell freezes over."

* * *

Hell froze over pretty quick for them as Bridget sat in the back seat between Jo and Sam, lips sealed shut in the quietness of the Impala. Ellen was sitting was sitting in the front with Dean driving looking pissed as hell.

"Boy," Dean said after a long pause. "You…you really weren't kidding about flying out, were you?" Ellen stared straight ahead not answering, Bridget shifted next to Sam. "How about we listen to some music?" Dean turned on the radio and Ellen immediately shut it off. Bridget, Jo, and Sam exchanged a look and Dean sighed. "This is gonna be a long drive."

Once at the Road House they went inside and Sam and Bridget hung back near the door while Dean, ballsy as ever, talked to Ellen. "Ellen? This is my fault. Okay? I lied to you, and I'm sorry. But Jo did good out there. I think her dad would be proud."

"Don't you _dare_ say that," she hissed. "Not you. I need a moment with my daughter – alone."

The three nodded and hurried outside, waiting by the car.

"That went well," Bridget said and leaned against the Impala.

"She's beyond pissed," Sam added.

"She hasn't killed us though…least not yet," she pointed out.

"I don't know why she's so upset though. Jo's safe, she did good," Dean said.

"Yeah, but it's her only daughter who she doesn't want leading this life style and who can blame her," Bridget said. "Her husband died doing this and she doesn't want to lose her daughter too. Jo can be normal. She has that opportunity. One none of us ever had."

Jo came storming out of the Road House then catching their attention by how upset she was.

"That bad, huh?" Dean asked when she was close enough.

"Not right now," she said angrily, near tears.

"What happened?" Dean asked and grabbed her arm. "Hey, talk to me."

She shoved him away. "Get off me!"

"Sorry," he said taken aback by her hostility. "See you around."

"Dean…it turns out my dad had a partner on his last hunt. Funny, he usually worked alone. This guy did, too. But I guess my father figured he could trust him – a mistake. Guy screwed up, got my dad killed."

"What does that have to do with –."

"It was your dad, Dean," she said.

"What?" Dean asked and Bridget exchanged a look with Sam.

"Why do you think John never came back, never told you about us? 'cause he couldn't look my mom in the eye after that. That's why."

"Jo…"

"Just…just get out of here. Please, just leave…" she said and walked away. Dean quietly got in the car, followed by Bridget and Sam. It ended up being a very quiet ride out of there.


	23. S2 Crossroad Blues

DISCLAIMER: Sorry its been awhile. Its midterm week

**S2 EP30 CROSSROAD BLUES**

Bridget tapped her fingers against her keyboard, resting her chin in her other hand as she stared at Dean's mug shot on the screen while sitting in the quiet little diner at a back booth. "Well, so much for a low profile. You've got a warrant in St. Luis and now you are officially in the FEDS database."

"So I'm like Dillinger or something," he joked. Bridget snorted, he would find it funny.

Sam gave him a serious look, "Dean, it's not funny. It makes the job harder. We've got to be careful now."

"Well, what do they got on you two?" he asked.

Bridget pursued her lips looking down at the table and Sam cleared his throat realizing she wasn't going to answer that. "I'm sure they just…haven't posted it yet."

His eyes widened. "What? No accessory? Nothing?"

"Shut up," he sighed.

"You're jealous," Dean chuckled.

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are," Bridget nodded.

"See," he took a drink from his soda. "So what do you got on the case there you harmless young man you?"

Sam ignored the comment and shuffled through the papers he had. He picked up an article and read from it. "Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home – a condominium he designed."

"Hmm. Build a high rise then jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did they call Animal Control?"

"Two days earlier," Bridget said.

"Did he actually say black dog?"

"Yeah. 'Vicious, wild, black dog.' The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it. In fact the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work. Two days later he takes a swan dive."

"Do you think we're dealing with an actual black dog?" Dean said.

Bridget frowned suddenly and opened her drawing pad, flipping through the pages as the two continued talking.

"Well maybe," Sam shrugged.

"What's the lore?"

Sam handed him the papers to look over. "Its all pretty vague. Could be animal spirits, omens. But whatever they are they're nig and nasty."

"Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap out of your leg," he held up a picture. "Look at that one, huh?"

Sam frowned at him.

"What? They could."

"Or they could be a lot worse," Bridget slid her drawing pad onto the table and the boys looked. A ferocious black dog was drawn across the page. Its teeth and claws were razor sharp and its eyes were read, the body seemed to fade off into mist but its shadow was cast against the wall.

"You've dreamt these?" Sam asked.

She nodded, "Yeah for awhile. Wonder if it's the same thing."

"Well, gee, that gives us something to look forward to," Dean sighed. "Let's go find out what's going on."

* * *

Bridget sighed as she straightened out her business skirt and adjusted her blouse and jacket. She stood near the counter by Dean. She loved playing reporter. It was wearing the heels and nylons that killed her.

"So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years right?" Sam questioned.

"That's right now one more time, this is for…"

Bridget adjusted her glasses. "A tribute to Mr. Boyden – Architectural Digest," the man laughed and Bridget gave him a stern look. "Funny to you?"

He shook his head in disgust, "No, it's just…a tribute. Yeah, see, Sean always got the tributes. He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind, and he gets another tribute."

"Right," Sam nodded. "Any idea why he'd do such a thing?"

He shrugged and scratched the back of his head, "I have no clue. He lived the charmed life."

"How so?" Dean asked.

"He was a flat-out genius. I mean, I'm capable, but next to him…and he wasn't always that way, either."

"No?"

He became a bit serious, "You wanna know the truth? There was a time where he couldn't even design a pup tent. Hell, ten years ago, he's working as a bartender at this place called Lloyd's, a complete dive."

"So what changed?" Bridget asked.

He shrugged making a gesture with his hand as he shook his head, "You got me. But overnight, he gets this huge commission and he starts designing…he starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like the level of Van Gogh and Mozart. It…"

He trailed off and Dean pushed. "What?"

"It's funny. The true geniuses –- they seem to die young, don't they? To have that kind of talent…why? Why just throw it away?"

Bridget nodded and shared a look with Sam and Dean. Something was off.

* * *

Bridget sat in the back of the Impala leaning across towards Sam as Dean exited the Animal Control building and joined them in the car with a stack of papers.

"What did you learn?" Sam asked.

"The secretary's name is Carly. She's twenty-three. She kayaks. They're real," he grinned.

"Jesus, Dean," Bridget rolled her eyes. "You didn't happen to ask her if she's seen any big black dogs, have you?"

He handed Sam some papers and she leaned over to look as Dean spoke. "Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, or dog like. There's nineteen calls in all." he took a post it out of his pocket. "I don't know what this is."

Bridget took it and laughed, "You mean Carly's myspace address?"

"Yeah, Myspace, what the hell is that," Sam and Bridget both laughed. "Seriously, is it like a porn site?"

Bridget handed him back the note, "You're incredible." She took her glasses off and let down her hair shaking it out.

Dean made a noise. "That was porn like hot. Can you just fling your hair around now and unbutton the blouse please?"

She smacked him. "You're a perve."

"You started it," he snorted.

"I'm changing into the pant suit."

"You look better in the skirt," Sam told her.

"Fine but I'm taking the nylons off."

Dean turned in his seat until Sam smacked him over the head, "You drive and keep your eyes on the road and off Bridget."

Dean pouted. "Spoil my fun."

Bridget flung the nylons onto the dashboard.

"Awe, not that's plain cruel," Dean said.

* * *

Bridget left her hair down and pulled it back with a clip this time, leaving the glasses in the car to Dean's disappointment as they knocked on the door to the mansion.

"I swear if this is another Pomeranian barking in the neighbor's yard," Dean grumbled. The door opened and he grinned at the maid holding up his badge. "Afternoon ma'am. Animal control."

"Oh, somebody came yesterday."

"We're just doing a follow-up," she looked at her notes. "We're looking for a doctor Sylvia Perlman."

"The doctor well she…she left two days ago. I don't know when she'll be back."

"Okay. And you are?"

"I'm Miss Perlman's maid," she said and ushered them inside.

"So, where did the doctor go?"

"I don't know. She just packed and went. She didn't say where. The stray dog , did you find it finally?" she asked hopefully.

"Not yet," Bridget shook her head. "The dog, you didn't happen to see it did you?

"Well, no. I never even heard it. I was almost starting to think the doctor was imagining things, but she's not like that, so…"

Dean started up, "You know, I read she was the chief surgeon at the hospital. She's gotta be, what, forty-two, forty-three? That's pretty young for that job."

"Youngest in the history of the place," she nodded. "She got the job ten years ago."

Bridget's head jerked up at that, catching her interest. "Ten years…an overnight success huh."

Dean was staring at the fridge. "Yeah, we know a guy like that," he pulled a picture off of it and looked at the back. His eyebrows went up. "Oh, look at this." He held it up. "Lloyd's bar."

Bridget took that as a cue. "Well, thank you for the information. Let Dr. Perlman know we stopped by when she gets back."

They bid farewell and got into the Impala. "Lloyd's bar, huh?"

Dean nodded. "You guys thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yeah, it's time to pay this bar a visit," Bridget said. "I'm changing into my day clothes."

"Can I watch?" Dean asked.

"No, you drive," she glared.

"Can I watch?" Sam asked.

"Sure," she said and Sam gave his brother a smug smile.

* * *

The car pulled up to the bar and the three got out. Bridget in a jean skirt with her knee high boots and a red cami top. They paused in the middle of a dirt crossroad. Dean frowned suddenly pausing.

"Hey."

"What?" Bridget asked stopping.

"That's weird," he walked over to some yellow flowers planted on the side of the road and looked across. They were planted at every side of the crossroad. "You think someone planted these?"

"In the middle of all these weeds?" Sam asked.

"These are uh…" he touched some of the flowers. "What do you call them?"

"Yarrow flowers," Bridget answered.

"Yeah. Used for rituals."

"Summoning rituals," Sam said catching on.

"So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago, right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's," Bridget put together.

"Where there just happens to be a crossroad," Sam added on. "You think?"

"Let's find out," Dean stood up and walked to the middle. "This seems to be dead center right?"

"I'll get the shovels," Bridget sighed and opened the trunk of the Impala. She came back and handed it to Dean. "You can do the dirty work."

He took it from her, "Don't I always?"

"I don't know I seem to be the one who examines bodies more often, you just dig."

He shook his head and started digging. Three scoops in it hit something. "Bingo!" He bent down and removed a metal box opening it and finding seven objects inside.

"What we got?" Sam asked kneeling down.

Bridget removed the jar of dirt and the bone. "I'm willing to bet this is graveyard dirt and a cat bone."

"That's one serious work. That's like deep south voodoo," Dean said.

"And it's a summoning spell for a demon," Sam said.

"Not just summon one. Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are actually making deals with the damn thing. You know, 'cause that always ends good," Dean said.

"They're seeing Hell Hounds," Bridget pieced together. "That's what I was drawing. They're coming to collect them and pay the debt."

"Whoever this demon is, it's back and it's collecting. And that doctor lady, wherever she's running, she ain't running fast enough," Dean said.

"So, it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right? I mean, "selling your soul at the crossroads" kind of deal?" Sam said

"Yeah except that wasn't a legend. I mean you know his music," Sam stared at him blankly and Dean looked surprised and looked at Bridget.

She nodded her head, "Yeah, my Dad listened to it a lot. So did my brother. Uh, Crossroad Blues, Hellhound on my Trail."

"See? She knows her music. Story goes he died choking on his own blood muttering something about black dogs."

"And now it's happening all over again," Sam sighed.

"Yeah."

"We've got to find out if anyone else struck bargains around here," he said.

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "Great. So we've got to clean up these people's messes for them? I mean, they're not squeaky clean. No one held a gun to their head and forced them to play Let's Make A Deal."

"So what we should let them die?" Sam argued. Bridget stood back. No need to go getting in the middle of this one.

"Somebody goes over Niagra falls in a barrel, you gonna go after them?" Dean asked.

"Dean…"

He growled, "All right, fine. Ritual like this you gotta put your photo into the mix," he held up a photo from the box. "So this man probably did the summoning. Let's see if anyone inside knows him…if he's still alive."

* * *

After an hour of asking questions someone finally had a legitimate answer and they found themselves walking up the stairs of an old apartment building.

"What's this guy's name again?" Sam asked.

"George Darrow," Bridget said. "Apparently quite the regular at Lloyd's. But I'm guessing this house won't be on MTV Cribs anytime soon…what kind of shitty bargain did he make?"

"Don't know but it wasn't for cash," Dean said. "Maybe his place is full of Angelina Jolie babes. This guy has an epic bill due, I just hope he had fun."

They finally reached the banged up apartment door and Sam frowned pointing down. "Look." There was a line of black dust framing the bottom of the doorway.

"Is that pepper?" Dean asked as the door creaked open.

"Who the hell are you?" George demanded.

"George Darrow?" Dean asked.

"I'm not buying anything," he started shutting the door.

"Looks like you went for the wrong shaker there. Usually when you want to keep something out you use salt," Bridget said.

"I don't know what you're taking about," the old man shook his head.

"I'm talking about this," Dean held up the photo he got from the box. "Tell me…you seeing Hell Hounds yet?"

"Look, we wanna help," Sam pleaded. "Just give us five minutes."

He looked around warily and opened the door letting them inside before shutting it and locking all the dead bolts into place. Normally Bridget would think that was being paranoid but considering what was after him she felt it wasn't enough.

"So what's that stuff out front?" she asked.

"Goofer dust," he said, tossing Dean a bag. "It's a hoodoo to keep demons at bay. My grandma showed me when I was just a boy."

"Well demons we know," Dean said.

"Keep it then," he said. "Maybe it'll do you some good."

Bridget was admiring the art work around the apartment. Gorgeous paintings and drawings on canvases surrounded the place.

"We know you got yourself into trouble. Maybe we can help," Sam said.

He shook his head, "Listen…I get that you three wanna help. But sometimes, a person makes their bed, and they've just got to lie down in it. I'm the one that called that demon in the first place."

"What you get for it?" Dean asked.

He shrugged, "I was weak. I mean, who don't wanna be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just…I just never thought about the price."

"Was it worth it?" Bridget asked, still admiring the paintings.

George sat in an old beat up green chair drinking his scotch. "Hell, no. 'Course, I asked for talent. Should've gone for fame. I'm still broke…and lonely. Just now, I've got this pile of paintings nobody wants. That wasn't the worst."

"Go on," she said.

"The demon didn't leave. I never counted on that. After our deal was done, the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week, just chattin', makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but who's gonna listen to an old drunk?"

"That's breaking the rules," Bridget said more to herself.

"How many others are there?" Sam asked

"This architect, a doctor lady –- I kept up with them. They've been in the papers. Least they got famous."

"Who else, George? Come on, think," Dean asked.

He snapped his fingers, "One more. Nice guy, too. Hudson –- Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. He's done for."

"No, there's got to be a way," Sam shook his head.

"You don't get it," he smiled sadly."I don't want a way."

"But you don't-"

He cut Sam off, "I called that thing! I brought it on myself! I brought it on them! I'm going to hell one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting –- day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold 'em off till then. Buy a little time. Okay, it's time you went. Go help somebody that wants help."

"You don't really-"

"Get out…I got work to do…"

Dean grabbed Sam's arm and gestured to the door knowing the conversation was over. Bridget gave one last look at the paintings. "They really are beautiful."

"You an artist?"

She shrugged a bit. "I draw what I see…"

He grabbed one she had been looking at of a disfigured portrait that had more going on inside the body of it. "Here. Take it."

"I couldn't," she held her hands up.

"Please…least my art will be out there and appreciated by someone who gets it."

She took the canvas with a nod. "Thank you…I hope you find the peace you're looking for Mr. Darrow." With that she turned her back and left to catch up to Sam and Dean.

* * *

Bridget yawned as they walked up the steps to the front door of the Hudson house. She still wasn't sure what the plan was to convince him to listen to them, but Dean seemed to know what he was doing as he knocked on the door.

It opened and a middle eyed man stood there. "Yes?"

"Evan Hudson?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," he nodded hesitantly.

"You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's?" Dean asked and Bridget rolled her eyes. Way to be subtle. "It would have been about ten years ago."

The door slammed in their face. "Come on! We're not demons."

"Brilliant idea," Bridget snorted. "Now what?"

Dean lifted his leg and kicked down the door. They saw Evan rush into his office and followed. The door shut and Dean moved to kick it down. Bridget grabbed his arm. "Let's try it my way," she pushed the knob, opening it.

"Evan?" Sam called.

He held up his hands. "Please don't hurt me."

"We're not going to hurt you. We're here to help you," Bridget told him.

"We know all about the genius deal you made," Dean said.

"What?" he asked confused. "How?"

"Doesn't matter," Sam shook his head. "We're here to help that's what matters."

"How do I know you're not lying?" he asked.

"Well, you don't, but you're kinda low on options," Dean pointed out.

"Can you stop it?"

Bridget shrugged her shoulders. "Don't know but we'll try."

"I don't wanna die," he said brokenly.

"Of course you don't. Not now," Dean said.

"Dean stop," Bridget warned him.

"What you ask for anyway?" he continued. "Never need Viagra? Bowl a perfect game?"

"My wife," he said quietly.

"Right. Getting the girl. That's worth a trip to hell."

"Dammit, Dean, stop," Sam said this time.

"No," Evan said with a defeated sigh, leaning against his desk. "He's right. I made the deal. Nobody twisted my arm. That woman, or whatever she was said she could do anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but," he sighed. "I don't know…I was desperate."

"Desperate?" Bridget asked.

He ran a hand over his face. "Julie was dying."

"You did it to save her?" Dean asked.

"She had cancer, they had stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice. They kept saying, "Matter of days." So, yeah, I made the deal. And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot."

"Did you ever think about her in all this?" Dean asked. Bridget took a deep breath, knowing his own anger at his father was fueling this one.

"I did this for her."

"You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself…so you wouldn't have to live without her. But, guess what, she's gonna have to live without _you_ now. But what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel?"

Bridget grabbed Dean's arm. "Okay, that's enough. Evan, you sit tight. We're going to figure this out," she dragged Dean out into the hall with Sam following. "I get you're pissed Dean, but don't take your anger out on Evan. He's doing what he thought was right."

"Don't go there, Bridget. I'm fine."

"Whatever you say. So now what do we do?"

"I've got an idea," Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out the bag of goofer dust. "You two throw hoodoo at the hellhound and keep it at bay while I go to the crossroad and summon the demon."

Sam's eyes widened. "Summon the demon? Are you nuts?"

He shrugged, "Maybe a little. But I can trap it. I can exorcise it, and I can buy us time to figure out something more permanent."

"Yeah, but how much time," Bridget questioned.

"I don't know, a while. I mean, it's not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine."

Sam shook his head, "No. No way."

"You're not allowed to say no, Sammy, unless either of you got a better idea."

"You can forget it. I'm not letting you summon that demon," Sam said.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't like where your head is right now."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, you've been on edge ever since we found that crossroads, Dean, and I think I know why and so does Bridget."

Dean started walking away. "We don't have time for this."

"You think Dad made one of those deals," Sam called after him. Bridget winced. She knew he did, she had seen it. "Hell I've been thinking it to."

Dean turned around. "It fits, doesn't it? I'm alive. He's not. What if he struck a deal? My soul for his."

"Then he did it for a reason, Dean and who are you to undo it…Just like Will died for me, you're Dad died for you and if you trade then he'll turn around and trade it right back and you know it," Bridget said and Dean was quiet, thinking about it.

"I think I hear it!" Evan shouted. "It's outside."

Dean hurried to the door. "Just keep him alive. Go!"

Sam and Bridget hurried back into the room, locking the doors behind them. Sam opened the bag and created a circle around the three of them in the middle of the room. "What is that stuff?" Evan asked.

"Goofer dust," Sam answered.

"Are you serious?"

"Look, believe us don't believe us," Bridget said. "Just whatever you do stay in the circle."

Evan jumped suddenly looking out the window.

Bridget and Sam looked around and saw nothing. "What?"

"You hear that?"

"No, where?" Sam asked.

He pointed at the doors. "Right outside." The doors suddenly started to rattle. Sam jumped grabbing Bridget's arm and pushing her behind him.

"Oh, this isn't good," she mumbled. "Come on Dean…"

The doors stopped rattling suddenly and they stayed tense. "Do you hear it Evan?"

"No. Is it over?" He asked. Bridget touched her necklace, it was vibrating. It wasn't done. Evan's eyes widened and he looked up. "It's in the air vent…it's here!" The vent burst up causing them all to jump.

"Stay in the circle!" Bridget yelled at Evan.

Claw marks started to appear in the floor. "Oh shit," Sam muttered. "Move it Dean."

A wind started to blow around the room causing the dust to move. "Sam!" Bridget yelled, grabbing his arm.

"The circle's broken, come on," he grabbed Evan and shoved him to move. They ran into a closet, shutting the door behind them and leaning against it. "Come on Dean. Come on!"

The door suddenly stopped and the three exchanged a glance. "Is it really done this time?"

Bridget touched her necklace. It was silent. "It's done." She opened the door and stepped out. There were scratch marks across the floor and the door was all but destroyed, but it was done.

* * *

Bridget sighed and leaned her head near Sam's in the Impala. "What a day?"

"Yeah," he nodded staring out the window.

She frowned a bit. "Sam, you okay, hun?"

He nodded again.

"What is it? You been acting kind of odd."

"I just…I think it's best if we don't do this anymore," he said to her.

Bridget frowned, "Do what...?"

"This…us…I just," he raked a hand through his hair. "I need a break…it has nothing to do with you. It's just these visions and my Dad and the demon…"

She put a hand on his shoulder with a smile. "Its okay, Sam. I understand. We'll take a break so you can clear your head, not like I won't be seeing you every day."

"Yeah," he said with a small smile.

Dean entered the car then. "You guys ready to hit the road."

Bridget sat back, "More than ever." Though she knew she wouldn't be getting far enough from the pain she was feeling. She took a pencil out of her bag and started drawing.

"Demons lie all the time right?" Sam said out of the silence twenty minutes later.

"Come on, is that really what you think? How could he do it?" Dean said.

"He did it for you, Dean," Bridget said.

"Exactly. How am I supposed to live with that? You know, the thought of him, wherever he is right now –- he spent his whole life chasing that yellow-eyed son of a bitch. He should have gone out fighting. That was supposed to be his legacy, you know? Not bargaining with the damn thing. Not this."

"He did it to save you because he loved you."

"Evan Hudson is safe because of what Dad taught us," Sam said. "That's his legacy, Dean. Now, we're still here. So we gotta keep fighting. For him. Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"When you were trapping that demon, you weren't…I mean, it was all a trick, right? You never considered actually making that deal, right?"

Dean said nothing just kept on driving. Bridget continued to draw, ignoring her own pain and tears just as the other two were.


	24. S2 Hunted

DISCLAIMER: Sorry its been awhile. School and a busted computer. Enjoy though

**SEA 2 EP 32 HUNTED**

Bridget found herself standing alongside a fence with Sam and Dean. The car had become unbearably stuffy with the silence and none could take it any longer. Now they stood along the rivers edge on the side of an empty road.

"Before Dad died," Dean started. "He told me something…something about you, Sam."

"What?" Sam asked. "What did he say?"

"He said that he…he wanted me to watch out for you," Dean looked away. "Take care of you."

Sam shook his head, "He told you that a million times."

"No, this time it was different," Dean said and bit his lip. Bridget could tell it was bothering him. "He said I have to save you."

Even she frowned with Sam. "Save me from what?"

"He just said that I have to save you. Nothing else mattered and if I couldn't…"

"What, Dean?" Sam asked.

"I'd have to kill you," he looked directly at Sam. "He said I'd have to kill you, Sammy."

"Kill me?" Sam's eyes welled up with tears.

"Why?" Bridget asked.

"I don't know," Dean shrugged.

"I mean, he must've had some kind of reason for saying it, right? Did he know the demon's plans for me? Am I supposed to go dark-side or something? What else did he say, Dean?" Sam asked.

"Nothing. That's it. I swear."

"How could you not have told me this?"

"Because he was dead and he begged me not to!"

"Who cares? Take some responsibility for yourself, Dean! You had no right to keep this from me!"

Dean straightened up angrily. "You think I wanted this? Huh? I wish to God he'd never opened his mouth! And I wouldn't have to walk around with this screaming in my head all day!"

Sam slumped against the fence. "We've just gotta figure out what's going on then, what the hell all this means."

"We will," Bridget said. "We'll figure this out. What's going on with you. We should lay low so it's safer."

"What? That I don't turn evil? That I don't turn into some kind of killer?

"Neither of us said that," Bridget told him.

Sam shook his head, "Jeez, if you're not careful, you _will_ have to waste me one day, Dean."

"I never said that! Damn it, Sam, this whole thing is spinning out of control! You're immune to some weirdo demon virus like Bridget is except she's born with it, and I don't even know what the hell anymore. And you're pissed at me, and I get it. That's fine, I deserve it. But we lay low until we figure out our next move, okay?"

"Whatever…why aren't you worried about Bridget going psycho."

"Because I wasn't possessed by some yellow eyed demons game and him and his demon buddies can't touch me much. So don't drag me into this," she said bitterly.

"Forget it," he said.

"Sam, please, man," Dean grabbed his brother's shoulders. "Hey, please. Just give us more time. I'm begging you here. Please."

He nodded his head.

"God, I wish Dad were still here. He'd know what to do."

Bridget cleared her throat. "I…I have something I need to come clean about too…" she licked her suddenly dry lips. "I knew John was going to do it…I saw it."

Sam looked at her. "You knew and you didn't tell me?"

"He didn't want me to when I confronted him about it. You had left and I went in his room and I confronted him."

"You didn't stop him?" Dean asked.

"You don't think I tried!" she said angrily, tears in her eyes. "I told him not to, but I couldn't stop your dad from saving you, his oldest son. I couldn't do a damn thing but let him go. You know that everything I draw is sealed in stone. There is no stopping it."

Dean's eyes lit up a bit. "How many drawing books you have?"

"A few."

"How far back do you have them to?"

"I don't know. I have a box with about six or seven books. You thinking I might have drawn something useful?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I think you might have."

* * *

Bridget tapped her fingers against the side panel in the Impala. She was as pissed off as Dean to wake up and find Sam missing. But thanks to Ellen they were at least on his trail and when she saw him she was going to kick his ass. She'd let Dean have first dibs but then it was her turn.

"I can't believe he's this stupid," Dean said.

"I can, he's your brother."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Means he's stupid. One big stupid idiot."

"Hey, just cause he's on break with you doesn't make him stupid."

Bridget gave him a pointed look.

"Okay, makes him a little stupid."

They pulled up to the hotel and saw Sam through the parted curtain window. "Oh thank God you're okay," Dean sighed seeing him. Sam moved out of the way and a girl was standing there.

Bridget's eyes widened. "Who's she?"

"Okay, so he is stupid."

Suddenly the window shattered. Bridget's eyes widened, "What the hell?"

She got out of the car with Dean as another bullet went through the window of the hotel. She followed the trail up and saw someone on the roof with a sniper gun. She ran not checking to see if Dean was following her and took the ladder up to the roof. She climbed up and was on her feet and she gasped recognizing the shooter.

"Hey Gordon!" Bridget shouted and kicked with her foot catching him in the chin. Dean was on him before she had a chance, punching away.

"You shoot my brother, I'll kill you," Dean growled.

She saw Gordon reaching for the rifle but was too slow to grab it. He hit Dean in the face with it, knocking him out and pointed it at her. "You think you can get to me before I put a bullet in you."

"You think I care?" she glared back taking a step forward.

He turned the gun toward Dean and she froze. He smiled. "Yeah, I figured you'd stop if I pointed it at him. Now get on your knees and put your hands behind your head before I use him for target practice."

Bridget did so, glaring at him the whole time.

"That's a good little girl," he flipped the gun around and knocked her upside the hit. She fell back unconscious.

* * *

"Ow," she groaned as she came to and lifted her head up. They were in a beat up building of some sort. She moved her arm and found she was restricted. She looked down and saw she was tied to a chair. "Great."

"You okay, Bridge?"

She looked over and saw Dean sitting next to her. "I'm peachy. How long was I out?"

"About ten minutes," Gordon answered. She didn't bother to turn her head and look at him.

"Well that's not enough time for me to wake up and like you," she said.

"I can always knock you out again."

"Why don't you untie me and we'll go about that the fair way? We'll see who wins," she sneered.

"So feisty," he smiled. Dean's phone began to ring. "Opp, part of my plan." He grabbed a strand of duct tape and ripped it off, sticking it to Bridget's mouth as she tried to struggle. "Can't have you talking in the background and ruining it or I'll kill Dean."

She sat there as Dean had the conversation with Sam and kept her face neutral as he said the word "funky town". It meant someone had a gun on him and she knew Sam caught on to that.

"Was that so hard?" Gordon asked hanging up the phone.

"Bite me."

He reached over to Bridget and ripped the tape from her mouth.

"Shit!" she swore as it stung.

Dean sighed as Gordon stood across cleaning his gun, leaning against the table. "Gordy, I know me, Bridge and Sam ain't exactly your favorite people, but don't you think this is a little extreme?"

"What? You think this is revenge?"

"Well," Bridget sighed. "We did leave you tied up in your own mess for three days…which was awesome," she chuckled. "Sorry. I shouldn't laugh." A smile broke over her face and she snickered again.

"Yeah. I was definitely planning on whoopin' your ass for that."

"I'm sure," Dean nodded.

He shook his head. "But that's not what this is. This isn't personal. I'm not a killer, Dean. I'm a hunter. And your brother's fair game." He slid a cartilage into the gun. "See, I was doing an exorcism down in Louisiana –- teenage girl, seemed routine, some low-level demon. But between all the jabbering and the head-spinning, the damn thing muttered something about a coming war. Now, I don't think it meant to. It just kind of slipped out. But it was too late –- peaked my interest. And you can really make a demon talk if you've got the right tools."

"And what happened to the girl?" Bridget asked.

"She didn't make it."

Dean shook his head, "Well you're a son of a bitch."

Gordon walked across and hit him across the face. "That's my mama you're talking about." He walked back over to the table with a smirk. "Anyway, this demon tells me they have soldiers to fight in this coming war –- humans fighting on hell's side, you believe that? I mean, they're psychics, so they're not exactly pure humans, but still…what kind of worthless scumbag you've gotta be to turn against your own race. But you know the biggest kick in the ass? This demon said I knew one of 'em –- our very own Sammy Winchester."

"Oh this is a whole new level of moronic even for you," Dean chuckled.

"Yeah, come on Dean. I know about Sam's visions."

"Yeah, you also know about my dreams but you didn't want me."

"You're not one of them," he told her.

"So you think this demon wasn't lying?" Dean asked with a laugh.

"Hey, Dean. I'm not some reckless yahoo, okay? I did my homework. Made damn sure it was true. Look, you got your Roadhouse connections, I got mine. It's how I found Sammy in the first place. About a month ago, I found another one of these freaks here in town. He could deep-fry a person just by touching them," he said.

"Yeah. Did he kill anyone?"

"Besides Mr. Tinkles, the cat? No. But he was working up to it. They're all gonna be killers, Dean. We've gotta take 'em all out. And that means Sammy, too."

"You think Sam is stupid enough to walk through the front door?" Bridget asked. She also hoped in that moment he wasn't stupid enough to do just that.

"No, I don't. Especially since I'm sure you found a way to warn him. You really think _I'm_ that stupid?"

"Is that rhetorical?" Bridget asked.

He ignored her and went on, "No…Sammy's gonna scope the place first, see me covering the front door. So he's gonna take the back. And when he does, he'll hit the tripwire. Then…boom."

"Sam is not gonna fall for a tripwire," Dean said.

"Maybe you're right," he reached into a bag and took out a device. "That's why I have another one."

"Oh God," Bridget mumbled, knowing exactly what he was going to do as he set it.

"Hey, look…I'm sorry. I wish I didn't have to do this, I really do. But for what it's worth…it'll be quick," Gordon told Dean.

"Come on, man. I know Sam better than anyone. He's got more of a conscience than I do. I mean, the guy feels guilty surfing the Internet for porn," Dean said panicking a bit.

"Maybe you're right, but one day he's gonna be a monster."

"How?" Bridget asked. "How is a guy like Sam going to be a monster?"

"Beats me," he shrugged. "But he will."

"You don't know that," Dean argued angrily.

Gordon gave him a disappointed look. "I'm surprised at you, Dean –- getting all emotional. I'd heard you were more of a professional than this. Look, let's say you were cruisin' around in that car of yours, and you had Little Hitler riding shotgun, right? Back when he was just some goofy, crappy artist. But you knew what he was gonna turn into someday. You'd take him out, no questions, am I right?"

Dean glared and Bridget tried to hide the fear in her eyes for partially seeing the truth in that. She had drawn Sam with dark eyes. Dean shook his head. "That's not Sam."

Gordon shrugged. "Yes, it is. You just can't see it yet. Dean, it's his destiny. Look…I'm sympathetic with both of you. He's your brother," he looked at Bridget. "He's your sex object. You both love the guy. This has gotta hurt like hell for you two. But here's the thing," he taped Dean's mouth shut then Bridget's despite her struggle against it. "You would've wrecked him. But your Dad? If it really came right down to it, he would've had the stones to do the right thing here. But you're telling me…you're not the man he is? I think Bridget could kill him before you could."

Gordon tilted his head as he heard the back door moving. "You hear him?" The door pushed open. "Here he comes." An explosion went off in the room over and Bridget screamed past the tape just as Dean did, swearing though no one could hear it. Gordon smiled. "On no, not yet. Wait for it." Another explosion sounded. His smile fell as he saw the tears in her eyes and Dean's. "I'm sorry."

She glared at him, wishing her looks could kill and turned her head to watch him walk into the broken room. Dean struggled to get out of his chair and she pulled against her own restraints. She could feel the rope digging into her skin. She turned her head to look at the knots and concentrated on them. The top part came undone, squirming itself loose from the hole of the rope. She wiggled harder finding it easier to move but not enough to completely get the ropes off.

She turned her head back as a figure came from the room and found it to be Sam, a bit beat up but not dead. She let out a sigh of relief as he removed the tape from her mouth.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded as he let her out of the confinements and he moved over to let Dean loose.

Dean was quick to hug his brother. "You're okay," he turned to go into the room to kill Gordon. Sam grabbed his arm. "Dean no."

"I let him live once I'm not gonna make that mistake again."

"Trust me. Gordon's taken care of. Come on."

The three left the building walking towards the car. "I can't believe we-"

Gunshots started firing cutting Bridget off as they ducked, running.

"You call this taken care of?" Dean asked Sam. He grabbed them both, ducking behind a log.

"Trust me," he repeated. As the words left his mouth, Gordon was surrounded by cop cars. They watched as he was handcuffed and put into a car.

Sam smiled, "Anonymous tip."

"You're an upstanding citizen, Sam," Bridget giggled.

They got into the Impala and started driving off. Sam made a call on his phone and his face was lined with worry. "Ava. It's Sam again. Call me back as soon as you get this."

Bridget raised an eyebrow. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah. I hope so…she's like me," Sam explained.

"Well, Gordon should be reaching for the soap for the next few years," Dean smirked.

"Yeah, if they pin Scott's murder on him. And if he doesn't bust out," Sam said listing the possibilities that were sure to happen.

Dean looked at him. "Dude, if you ever take off like that again…"

"What? You'll kill me?" he joked.

"Not funny," Bridget mumbled as Sam laughed.

"All right, so where to next?" he asked.

"One word – Amsterdam," Dean said.

"Dean…" Sam trailed off.

"Come on. I hear the coffee houses are great."

"I'm not quitting the job."

Dean shook his head, "Screw the job. Screw it, man. I'm sick of the job anyway. We don't get paid, we don't get thanked. The only thing we get is bad luck."

"You're a hunter. It's what you're meant to do."

"I'd kill to go back to designing clothes," Bridget mumbled. "But it's not meant to be."

"No," Dean said. "I don't believe that. Anything can be. I don't believe in that destiny crap."

"You mean _my_ destiny," Sam corrected him.

"Whatever."

"Look, Dean, I've tried running before. I mean, I ran all the way to California and look what happened. You can't run from this. And you can't protect me," Sam said.

"But like hell we won't try," Bridget added.

"Thanks for that," Sam said to her. "I'm gonna keep hunting. Whatever's coming I'm facing it head on. So, if you both really wanna watch my back, then I guess you're gonna have to stick around."

"Bitch," Dean mumbled.

"Jerk," Sam smiled.

"Dumbasses," Bridget put in.

Sam picked up his phone. "Are you calling her again?" Bridget asked.

"It's nothing, Bridge. She's engaged. How far is Peoria?"

"Why?"

"Just a feeling…"

* * *

They entered the house slowly. "Hello?" Sam called out. "Anybody home?"

Bridget's necklace became warm against her skin. She touched it with a frown, following the pulsing sensation to a door and pushed it open. Her mouth dropped open. "Oh my God…Sam, Dean…"

On the bed was Ava's fiancé, very much dead as proved the blood all over the walls. Bridget walked to the window as they took it in and touched the yellow residue. "It's sulfur. A demon was here."

Sam took a step forward and paused picking something off the ground. "Ava's engagement ring…"

Bridget was starting things were going from bad to worse very fast.


	25. S2 Playthings

**DISCLAIMER: HAPPY EASTER**

**SEA 2 EP33 PLAYTHINGS**

Bridget sat on the bed flipping quietly through the channels and stopping to watch _Grey's Anatomy_. It was nice to watch someone else's drama instead of her own. Between her blood filled therapy needed past and the events over the last few months including her break with Sam she needed a vacation. She yawned as Sam finished on the phone with Ellen and Dean came in with coffee.

She jumped off the bed, grabbing one of the cups from him before settling down to watch Derek say something sweet to Meredith and fought the urge to snort. Things like that never really happened.

"What Ellen have to say?" Dean asked Sam.

"She's got nothing. Me, I've been checking every database I could think of –- federal, state, and local. No one's heard anything about Ava. She just…into thin air, you know? What about you?"

"No, same as before man, I'm sorry," Dean apologized, sitting on a corner of the bed across from Bridget.

"Ellen did have one thing," Sam said.

"Which would be?" Bridget asked.

"A hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut –- two freak accidents in the past three weeks."

"What's it got to do with Ava?" Dean questioned.

He shrugged, "It's a job. I mean, a lady drowned in the bathtub, then a few days ago, guy falls down the stairs, head turns a complete 180. Which isn't exactly normal, you know? Look, I don't know, Dean, it might be nothing. But I told Ellen we'd think about checking it out."

"You did?"

"Yeah, you seem surprised," Sam said.

"Well, it's just not the patented Sam Winchester way, is it?

"And what way is that?"

"I just figured after Ava, there'd be more angst, droopy music, staring out the rainy windows," he said and Bridget snorted as Sam stared at him. "I'll shut up now."

"Look, I'm the one who told her to go back home. Now, her fiancée's dead, and some demon has taken her off to God-knows-where, you know? We've been looking for a month now. We've got nothing. So, I'm not giving up on her, but I'm not gonna let other people die either. We've gotta save as many people as we can."

Even Bridget's eyes widened, "Wow. That attitude is just way too healthy for me. I'm officially uncomfortable now. Thank you."

Dean chuckled. "Call Ellen. Tell her were on it."

* * *

Bridget lowered her sunglasses as they pulled up in front of the hotel. It looked like a haunted house, iron fence and all. She would have found it funny if two people hadn't wound up dead.

"Dude, this is sweet," Dean grinned as they got their stuff out of the trunk. "We never get a job like this."

"Like what?" Bridget asked. "Because I don't see a beach in the backyard."

"Old-school haunted houses, you know? Fog, secret passageways, sissy British accents. We might even run into Fred and Daphne while we're inside," he smiled. "Mmm, Daphne. Love her." He looked at Bridget and she held up a hand stopping him.

"Dean, if you make a sexist comment I will knock you on your ass."

He shut his mouth as they walked up the stairs to the front door. Sam paused a moment, noticing a mark on a hanging plant. "Hey, wait a sec. I'm not so sure "haunted" is the problem."

"What do you mean?" Bridget asked.

Sam pointed at a mark on the pot to the plant. "See this mark here. That's a quincunx. It's a five-spot."

"A five spot?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

"That's used for hoo doo," Bridget added with a frown. "With bloodweed it's used to ward off enemies."

"Yeah, except I don't see any bloodweed. Don't you think this place is a little too white-meat for hoodoo?" Dean asked.

They continued to walk inside, "Maybe."

The place was huge and as they came in a woman came from around the corner to the front desk. "May I help you?"

"Hi, yeah, I'd like a couple rooms for the night," Dean said.

A child ran from around the corner, the little girl bumping into Sam.

"Hey," Susan called after her. "Sorry about that."

He shrugged it off. "No problem."

"Well congratulations. You can be our final guests."

Dean smiled, "That sounds vaguely ominous."

She smiled, "No, I'm sorry. I mean, we're closing at the end of the month. Let me guess –- you guys are here antiquing?"

They exchanged a look, "How'd you know?"

"Oh, you just look the type," she said. "So, uh…king size bed and a single?"

"What? No. We're brothers," Dean said and slung his arm around Bridget. "Me and the little missus wouldn't mind the king sized bed though. She's the antiquer."

"If it had a nice couch that'd be great too," Bridget smiled, shooting a glare at Dean.

"You know, speaking of antiques, you have a really interesting urn on the front porch. Where did you get that?" Sam said.

"You know, I have no idea. It's been there forever. Here you go, Mr. Mahogoff," she handed Dean a key. "You'll be in room 327 with your wife. And you get the room next door," she handed Sam the other key.

A bellhop showed himself just then and the woman gave him directions. "Sherwin, can you show then to their rooms."

"Antiquers?" he asked.

Dean tensed and Bridget smiled, elbowing him lightly as they followed the man up the stairs and down a hall. The older man carrying the bags.

"I can give you a hand with that," Dean said.

"I got it," he told him.

"So the hotel's closing up?" Sam asked.

"Yep. Susan tried to make a go of it, but the guests just don't come like they used to. Still, it's a damn shame," the old man nodded.

"Oh yeah," Bridget said.

"It may not look it anymore, but this place was a palace. Two different vice-presidents laid their heads on our pillows. My parents worked here. I practically grew up here –- gonna miss it. Here's your room," he said opening the door and putting down the bags. "The door right there leads into the smaller room with the singled bed and it has its own bathroom." He held out his hand to Dean who stared at him reluctantly. "You're not gonna cheapin' out on me now are you boy?"

Dean bit his lip and handed him a five.

Sam wasted no time going through a stack of papers and Bridget felt the need to help since Dean's weak point seemed to be research. Dean chuckled. "What the…"

"What?" Bridget asked.

He pointed at the old dress hanging on the wall as a decoration. "Tell me that's not weird. What they hell do they stay open? I'm surprised it lasted this long."

Sam seemed to ignore him as he laid out some papers. "All right. Victim number one –- Joan Edison, forty-three years old, a realtor, handling the sale of the hotel. And victim number two was Larry Williams, moving some stuff out to Goodwill."

"There's a connection. They both want the place shut down," Bridget said.

Sam nodded, "Yeah. Maybe someone here doesn't wanna leave and they're using hoodoo to fight back."

"Who do you think the witch doctor is? The Susan lady?" Dean questioned.

"That doesn't seem likely. She's the one selling."

"So what then? Sherwin?"

"I don't know," he shrugged.

"Of course, the most troubling question is, Why do these people assume we're gay?"

"People always assume you two are gay which is funny because they completely look over me like I'm too good for either of you which they're probably right on. But I think it's because you're too butch," she said to Dean and looked at Sam. "And you come off so sensitive."

He glared, "I'm not sensitive."

She raised her eyebrows and stood up stretching, "Okay Sally. Can we go find something to eat?"

"Now you're talkin," Dean grinned."You comin' Sally?"

Sam glared at both of them but grabbed the room key and left with them down the hall. Sam did a double take on a vase sitting on a table. "Hey," he called. Bridget and Dean paused turning to look. Both frowned when they saw the same symbol on the vase. "More hoodoo."

"How odd," Dean said and knocked on the door.

It opened and Susan peeked her head out. "Hi. Is everything okay with your room?"

"Yeah, everything's great," Sam nodded.

"Good. Well, I was just in the middle of packing so…" she trailed off.

"Hey are those antique dolls," Bridget pointed at the ones lined up on the shelf. "Because my brother in law here," she patted Sam's shoulder. "He's got a major doll collection back home. Don't you?"

He gritted his teeth, his lips pressed in a tight line. "Sure do."

Dean caught on. "Big time. You think we could come take a look at them?"

"I don't know," she said reluctantly.

"Please. I mean, he _loves_ them. He's not gonna tell you this, but he's always dressing them up in these little, tiny outfits, and you'd make his day," he looked at Sam. "She would, huh? Huh?"

Sam's face was lack of any emotion along with his tone, "Sure."

"Okay," she opened the door. "Come on in."

"All right," Dean inspected the shelf. "That is a lot of dolls. Not super creepy at all."

Susan laughed. "Maybe they're a little creepy. But they've been in the family forever."

Bridget walked over to the large doll house, bending down to look at it. "Is this a doll hotel? A replica?"

"Yeah. An exact replica custom built."

Bridget shared a look with Sam as she picked up one of the figures who's head was twisted all the way around. "This one's head got twisted. What happened?"

"Tyler probably," she sighed.

The little girl came in from another room. "Mommy, Maggie's being mean."

"Tyler, tell her I said to be nice okay?" Susan said to her.

"Hey, Tyler," Sam called to her taking the figure from Bridget. "I see you broke your doll. Do you want me to fix it for you?"

"I didn't break it. I found it like that."

"Oh. Well, maybe Maggie did it," Bridget suggested.

"No. Neither of us did it. Grandma would be mad if we did."

"Tyler, she wouldn't get mad," Susan told her.

"Grandma?" Dean asked.

"Grandma Rose," the little girl nodded. "These were her toys."

"Oh really…where's Grandma Rose now?"

"Up in her room," she said.

"You know, I'd really love to talk to her about her incredible doll-"

"No," Susan said sternly, cutting him off. "I mean I'm afraid that's impossible. My mother's been very sick and she's not taking visitors."

* * *

It wasn't long before they were ushered out of the room and found themselves back in the hall walking to their room.

"Well, what do you think? Dolls with their heads twisted, hoodoo, Grandma's locked in her room," Bridget asked out loud to them.

"Dolls are used in all kinds of voodoo and hoodoo rituals. Like curses and binding spells," Sam said.

"Yeah, maybe we've found our witch doctor. I'll go see what I can dig up on Booming Granny. You get online, check old obits, freak accidents, that sort of thing. See if she's whacked anybody before," Dean said.

"Right," Sam nodded.

"And don't go surfing porn. That's not the kind of whacked I mean," Dean said.

* * *

Not an hour later she found herself going downstairs with Dean and standing on the porch watching a body be put into the back of an ambulance. She never heard a thing, never felt so much as a tremble from her necklace.

"What happened?" she asked as Susan approached.

"The maid went in to turn down the sheet and he was just…hanging there," she said.

"That's awful," Dean said. "Was he a guest?"

She nodded. "He worked for the company that's buying the place. I don't understand."

"What?" Bridget questioned.

"I've had a lot of bad luck around here. Look, if you'd like to check out, I'll give you a full refund."

"No, thanks. We don't scare that easy," Dean said with a soft smile. Susan walked past him into the lobby with a nod.

Bridget turned to Dean. "Someone is stopping these people from taking this place and it's putting up one hell of a fight."

"You can say that. Drowning, falling down stairs, now hanging."

"We better figure this one out or I'm never getting my vacation," she sighed as they took the stairs and went down the hall to the room.

Bridget opened the door and stepped into the dark room. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust and see Sam sitting in a chair by the window. That wasn't peculiar at all she thought sharing a look with Dean.

"There's been another one," Dean said, shutting the door. "Some guy just hung himself in his room."

"Yeah. I saw," he said grumply.

Bridget started looking through the papers on the table, "We gotta figure this out. Before it happens again. Did you find anything on the Grandma?"

"You're bossy," Sam said and she paused turning to look at him.

Dean blinked. "What?"

Sam gestured at Bridget, "She's bossy," he pointed at Dean with a chuckle. "And you're short."

"Are you drunk?" Bridget asked, standing up straight.

"Yeah, so?"

She sighed and pointed at the mini fridge behind Dean. He turned to look and saw the empty bottles lined up. There were at least nine of them. He shook his head. "Dude, what are you thinking? We're working a case?"

Sam shook his head, his eyes watering up. "The guy who hung himself…I couldn't save him."

"What are you talking about? You couldn't have known or done anything. Hell, Bridge's necklace didn't even twitch that something was going on," Dean said.

"That's an excuse, Dean. I should've found a way to save him. I should've saved Ava, too."

There it was Bridget realized. His held back emotions were going to spill forth in a drunken heap of tears and vodka. "You can't save everyone, Sam."

"No, Bridget, you don't understand. The more people I save, the more I can change."

"Change what?" Dean asked.

"My destiny!"

Bridget nodded walking over to him. "Okay, time for bed Jack Sparrow." She helped him stand up and led him shakily to the bed that wasn't far away. But he refused to sit for the moment.

"I need you guys to look out for me," he said.

"Yeah, we always do," Dean said helping Bridget settle him down.

"No, no, no. You have to _watch out_ for me, all right? And if I ever turn into something that I'm not…you have to kill me," he told them both.

"Sam…" Bridget said.

"No, my dad told you. Both of you to do it."

Dean shook his head, "Yeah, well, Dad's an ass. He never should've said anything. I mean, you don't do that, you don't lay that kind of crap on your kids."

"No, he was right to say it. Who knows what I might become? Even now, everyone around me dies!"

"We're not dead, Sam," Bridget told him. "We're not dying, okay? And neither are you, come on let's get you to bed." She got him to sit down.

"No, please. Dean, Bridge, you're the only ones who can do it. Promise."

"Sam, don't ask me that," Dean told him. Bridget occupied herself with removing his shoes to avoid the question all together. Kill Sam. The first guy she loved after Will. She couldn't fathom it even if they were on break.

"You have to promise me," he repeated.

Reluctantly Dean answered, "I promise."

Bridget stood to help him lay down, "Come on, lay down."

Sam grabbed her wrist and she moved her eyes to his. Saw the tears and the pleading. "Promise me, Bridget."

She licked at her teeth and swallowed hard, "Yeah, Sam. I promise."

"Thanks…thank you," he pulled her down next to him which caught her by surprise as his other arm came around encircling her waist and lying her down next to him. He turned onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow and was sound asleep. Bridget looked at Dean pleadingly unable to maneuver away from his leg crushed onto hers or his arm draped heavily over her.

"Help."

He smiled with a chuckle. "Looks like I get the king bed to myself."

"Don't leave me here," she hissed.

Dean waved and headed for the conjoining door.

"Dean!" she whispered angrily as the door shut. She let her head hit the pillow with a sigh. Sam started snoring. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Bridget rubbed at her neck. Sleeping like that was a bit of a killer but thankfully she had slept a few hours and Sam woke up long enough for the alcohol to hit him hard in the stomach. He was now bent over the toilet, head resting against the rim. From her count as it flushed this was the third time he puked.

The door opened and Dean walked in. He smiled at her. "How'd you sleep?"

"You do know I'm going to hit you at some point today right?" she reminded him with a glare, rubbing the back of her neck. "That you will fall down and be in pain."

"I look forward to it," he turned to look into the bathroom. "How you feelin', Sammy? I guess mixing whiskey and Jager wasn't a gangbuster idea? I bet you don't remember a thing from last night do you?"

Bridget eyed him carefully knowing exactly what he was hinting at.

Sam groaned, "Ugh, I can still taste the tequila."

"You know," Dean smiled. "There's a really good hang over remedy. It's a greasy pork sandwich wrapped in a dirty ashtray."

Sam threw up again, "I hate you so bad…"

"I know you do. But while you were passed out with Bridget here I found something out. Turns out when Grandma Rose was a tyke, she had a Creole nanny who wore a hoodoo necklace."

"So, you think she taught Rose hoodoo?" Sam asked flushing the toilet again and getting to his feet.

"Yes, I do."

"Looks like we're getting answers," Bridget said standing up as Sam came out of the bathroom to stand in front of them.

"All right, I think it's time we talk to Rose then."

Bridget coughed waving a hand in front of her face as Dean scrunched up his face. She pointed at the bathroom. "You need to brush your teeth first."

* * *

Ten minutes later they were standing in front of Susan's door down the hall. Sam knocked first. "Hello? Susan?" No answer came and it didn't sound like anyone was inside.

"All clear?" Bridget said as she inspected the staircase. No one was coming or going.

Sam bent lower and took a metal tool out of his pocket. He inserted it into the lock, twisting the handle and the door creaked open. As they entered they noticed an open door leading up a staircase and took it to the attic. An elderly lady was sitting in a wheelchair in the barely lit room down a hall to their right staring out the window as the rain came down.

"Ms. Thompson?" Bridget called out as they approached slowly. "Mrs. Thompson?...Rose?"

They moved to the front to look at her and saw she looked frightened but wasn't speaking. Bridget shared a look with the other two and Sam kneeled down next to the elderly lady. "Hi Mrs. Thompson. We're not here to hurt you, it's okay…Rose?" Her mouth moved to speak but no words would come out. He stood up straight and pulled Dean and Bridget aside. "She had a stroke."

"Yeah, but hoodoo is hand's on," he said.

"Yeah," Sam agreed.

"You've gotta mix herbs and chant and build an altar," Bridget said. "She couldn't do that."

"So, it can't be Rose," Sam nodded. "Could not even be hoodoo."

"You know, she could be faking," Dean said.

Bridget and Sam gave him a look. "Yeah? What do you wanna do Dean? Poke her with a stick?" Dean rubbed his chin at the idea and Bridget smacked his shoulder. "Dude, you are not going to poke her with a stick!"

Susan chose that moment to enter the room, eyes wide in shock. "What the hell? What are you doing in here?"

"Oh, we just wanted to…" Dean trailed off not able to think of a story.

"We wanted to talk to Rose," Sam went with the truth.

Susan knelt next to her mother, "Look at her, she is scared out of her wits. I want you out of my hotel in two minutes or I'm calling the cops."

* * *

"Well that went well," Dean said as they drove down the road.

"What eles could we do? We couldn't convince her to let us stay," Sam said.

Bridget sat in the back going through the drawings in her book, trying to find another case they could go over. "Yeah, well, we tried."

"Not enough," Sam shook his head.

"We just need to think of a plan."

She listened to them discuss their ideas while she flipped through her book. She paused on a drawing and frowned. It was a swing set and teeter totter. There was a woman standing with her back to the page and a car was coming at her from behind, she couldn't see it. Off the page was someone running into frame wearing, she looked at the picture closely. There was a cast on the left wrist. Her eyes widened just as her necklace warmed against her skin. This was going to happen. Now.

"Go back!" she said suddenly, lurching forward to lean into the front seat. "Go back now!"

"What? Why?" Dean asked.

Bridget dropped her drawing pad into the front seat. "Because Susan's next and Sam's stops it! Go, Dean!"

Dean swung the car around and sped up back in the direction they came. "Are you sure?"

"Have my drawings ever been wrong?" she asked. "You need more proof," she untucked her necklace from her shirt so they could see it pulsing slightly. "It tends to do that when a drawing is about to happen."

Dean hit the gas harder. They were back at the hotel in record speed. He slammed on the brakes and Bridget pointed. "There she is! Sam, go!"

Without another word from her Sam was sprinting towards Susan. Bridget and Dean got out of the car and hurried to them. They watched as Sam knocked Susan out of the way before the car could crash into either of them.

Bridget was helping Susan stand. "Come on, let's go inside."

"Whiskey," Susan said the minute they stepped into the bar area.

"Sure. I know the feeling," Sam nodded and grabbed a bottle from the bar.

"What the hell happened out there?" she asked the three of them.

"You want the truth?" Bridget asked.

"Of course."

"Well, at first, we thought it was some sort of a hoodoo curse. But that out there? That was definitely a spirit," Bridget told her.

"Here," Sam handed Susan a glass.

She took a drink. "You're insane."

"You were almost hit by a car going sixty with no driver and we're insane?" Bridget asked.

"Look, I'm sorry, Susan. We don't exactly have time to ease you into this. But we need to know when your mother had the stroke," Sam asked.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question," Sam said.

"About a month ago."

"Right before the killings began," he said and looked at Dean and Bridget. "See? So what if Rose was working hoodoo but not to hurt anyone, to protect them?"

"She was using the five spot urns to ward off evil," Bridget pieced together.

"Right. Until she had a stroke and couldn't do it anymore," he nodded.

"I don't believe this," Susan shook her head.

"Listen, sister, that car didn't try to run you down by itself, okay," Dean told her point blank. He thought about it. "Well, I guess it did technically, but a spirit can- forget it."

"Just believe what you want, all right? But the fact is you and your family are in danger. So you need to clear everybody out of here –- your employees, your mother, your daughters, everyone," Sam said.

Susan frowned. "Um…I only have one daughter."

Bridget paused. "One…I thought Tyler had a sister named Maggie?"

"Maggie's imaginary."

Her eyes widened and she looked towards Sam and Dean, they had the same expression on their face. Maggie was more than imaginary. "Where's Tyler?"

* * *

They burst into Tyler's room to find the little girl gone and many of the dolls broken along the floor and shelves.

"Tyler!" Susan yelled frantically. "Oh my God, Tyler! She's not here."

"Susan," Sam grabbed her arms. "Tell us what you know about Maggie."

"Not much. Tyler's been talking about her since Mom got sick," she said scared.

"Okay, did you ever know anyone by that name?" Bridget asked.

"No," she shook her head.

"Think," Dean said. "Maybe someone that could have lived here. Someone that passed away."

Her eyes widened slightly, "Oh my God. My Mom. My Mom had a sister named Margaret. She barely spoke about her."

"Did she happen to die here as a child?" Bridget asked.

"She drowned in the pool," she nodded.

Dean let out a deep breath, "Come on."

* * *

Bridget ran full speed right behind Sam and Dean towards the pool house. The glass doors were shut. They reached them, trying the knobs but they wouldn't budge. They could see Tyler standing on the other side of the railing above the pool.

Susan banged on the glass, "Tyler! Tyler!"

Sam was trying to break the glass but it wouldn't so much as crack.

Tyler turned around to look back, "Mommy!" She suddenly screamed as she fell from the railing into the pool.

"Is there another way in?" Dean asked frantically.

"Around back," Susan said.

"All right come on," he looked at Bridget and Sam. "Keep trying."

"Of course," Bridget brought her foot up and kicked at the glass. "Come on!" She touched her necklace hoping to get some help. "Please…please…" she felt it warm up in her hand and lashed at the glass again this time causing it to shatter.

Sam stared at her in surprise and she ushered him in first. He was quick to run in and jump over the railing. Bridget followed right behind him, splashing into the water seconds later. Sam got to the little girl first and Bridget swam to the edge of the pool, climbing out as Dean and Susan entered. Sam laid her at the edge and she started coughing up water.

"Oh, thank God," Susan sighed in relief.

"Mommy," Tyler cried, clinging to her.

"Tyler, did you see where Maggie went?" Bridget asked kneeling next to her.

She shook her head. "She's gone."

* * *

The three followed behind Susan and Tyler up the staircase towards the Grandma's room. Bridget, rang out her hair not knowing why she bothered when she was soaked anyway. Another pair of boots ruined. Least she had three pairs just like them in the car. The only problem was water made her skirt shrink up and Dean was behind her.

"You know, Bridge, you look good like that," he said.

Bridget lashed her foot out, catching him in the chest and knocking him on his ass on the landing hard enough he winced. "I warned you I'd hit you at some point."

He got back to his feet and started up the stairs this time walking along side her to prevent further injury.

"I don't get it though," Sam said. "Did Maggie just stop?"

"Seems like it," Bridget shrugged.

"Where the hell did she go?" Dean asked.

As if his words were the key, Susan screamed from upstairs. They were quick to take action and run up the stairs and down the hall to find Rose dead in her wheelchair. The reason Maggie had stopped.

* * *

Bridget found it nice to be in dry clothes again even though she didn't like watching bodies get put into the back of an ambulance. She approached Susan with Sam and Dean.

"The paramedics said it was another stroke," she informed them. "You think Maggie could have done it?"

"We don't know," Bridget shook her head, "But it is possible."

"Susan, I'm sorry," Sam apologized.

She waved her hand in front of her, "God, you have nothing to be sorry for. You've given me everything." Tyler appeared by her side from inside the house carrying her back pack. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah."

"Tyler, you sure Maggie's gone?" Dean asked.

"I'm sure, I'd see her," she nodded and headed towards the awaiting taxi with her mother.

Dean sighed as they walked towards the Impala. "Well, I guess whatever's going on must be over. You saved the mom, you saved the little girl. Not a bad day. You know, I could have saved them but I didn't want you to feel useless."

Sam chuckled, "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Feels good to be back in the saddle again, doesn't it?"

"Feel better on a beach," Bridget mumbled leaning against the car.

"Yeah, it does," Sam agreed. "But it doesn't change what we talked about last night."

Bridget pursued her lips finding her nails rather interesting at the moment. "What about last night?"

"Yeah, we talked about a lot of stuff last night," Dean nodded.

"You both know what I mean," he said.

Bridget bit her lip, "You were wasted, Sam."

"But neither of you were. And you both promised," he said and got into the car. Bridget and Dean shared a look over the car. She turned away first, getting into the back seat and grabbing her drawing book going through it as they drove away.


	26. S2 Born Under a Bad Sign

**DISCLAIMER: Sorry for the long wait. I barely got my computer back after putting it in a week ago. But here's the next chapter **

* * *

**S2 EP36 BORN UNDER A BAD SIGN**

Bridget was tapping her foot impatiently as Dean talked on the phone with Ellen. They were still trying to find Sam after he disappeared again. They woke up and he was just gone. No sign. No note. Nothing. And Dean and her were going crazy yet again to find him.

Her phone buzzed and she picked it from the back of her jean skirt pocket hoping it was Bobby. Her eyes widened when she saw Sam's name on the screen. "Dean!" she called his name to get his attention. He turned to look at her. "It's Sam." His eyes widened and he hung up with Ellen as she answered her phone. "Sam? Where the hell are you? Are you okay?" She listened to him on the other end and Dean leaned in trying to hear. "Hey, hey. Calm down. Where are you, Sam?" She nodded. "Okay, sit tight. We'll be right there."

She hung up and looked at Dean. "He's at Star Hotel in the next town over. He's panicking. We got to hurry."

They pulled up to the hotel twenty minutes later and Dean knocked on the door. "Sam? It's us." He pushed it open and they stepped inside. Sam looked up from the bed but didn't move.

"Sam…hey," Bridget said quietly, careful.

"Hey…" he said.

Bridget kneeled down next to him, having noticed the dark stain on his shirt from across the way. "Oh my God, are you bleeding?"

"I tried to wash it off…"

"Oh my God," Dean said and sat next to him.

Bridget saw there was no wound and looked up at him. He shook his head. "I don't think it's my blood."

"Whose is it?" Dean asked.

"I don't know."

"Sam, what the hell happened?"

"I…I don't remember anything."

* * *

Dean came back a few minutes later with food though Bridget wasn't sure if she could eat considering Sam had no memory of the blood on him or how he got here.

"What you learn?" Sam asked, having changed his clothes for Bridget to dispose of.

"You checked in two days ago under the name Richard Sambora. Of course, I think the scariest part about this whole thing is the fact that you're a Bon Jovi fan."

"Hilarious," Bridget monotone. "Anything useful?"

"You're rooms been quiet, Sam. No one has seen anything unusual."

"You mean no one saw me walking around here covered in blood?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "That's what I mean."

"Then how the hell did I get here?"

Bridget shook her head, "I don't know, all right? But you're okay, that's what matters. Everything else we can deal with."

"What if I hurt someone or worse," he said the question that was on their minds.

Dean didn't want to hear it, "Sam…"

"What if this is what Dad was talking about?"

Dean waved his hand stopping him, "Hey, whoa, whoa. Come on, man, let's not jump the gun here. We don't know what happened. And we've just gotta treat this like any other job. What's the last thing you remember?"

He thought about it for a moment, "Just me, Bridget, and you…just in that motel room in West Texas. I went out to grab some burgers and—"

"West Texas," Bridget repeated. "That was over a week ago."

"That's it. Next thing I knew, I was sitting here –- bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month."

"Okay. We'll retrace your steps," Dean said walking over to the window to look out. "Manager said you went out yesterday afternoon and…hey," Bridget and Sam walked overseeing the blood on the latch of the window. This wasn't good.

* * *

They started off in the parking lot. "Recognize anything?" Dean asked.

"Not really," he said as they continued walking down the street into a storage alley and Sam stopped. "Wait…I think I was here."

"You remember something?" Bridget asked.

"No it just feels familiar," he pointed at storage unit two. "This one," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key and handed it to Dean. "Yeah."

Dean pulled the sliding door up and they stared at a beat up blue Volkswagon beetle. "Please tell me you didn't steal this piece of junk?" Bridget asked.

Sam shrugged and opened the door sliding his fingers along with steering wheel and wiping up blood with a pale look on his face. Bridget became paler. "Hey Sam…backseat."

He turned and looked like he was going to be sick as he picked up a bloody knife. "You think I used this on someone?"

"I'm not thinking anything," Dean shook his head. "Okay now this is disturbing," he picked up a pack of cigarettes from the counsel. "This couldn't have been you. It had to be somebody else, somebody who smokes menthols."

"Hey," Bridget reached down and picked up a piece of paper off the floor. "It's a gas receipt, few towns over."

* * *

Bridget got out of the car and stretched, this was going to be a long day. She desperately wanted a vacation. With a frown she touched her necklace, it felt a bit warmer for some unknown reason, especially the ring. With a shake of her head she followed Sam and Dean.

"All right, the receipt said ten gallons on pump ten . You getting any déjà vu senses yet?" Dean asked him. "Maybe someone in here will know you."

"You!" the clerk screeched causing them to jump in surprise. "You, get out. I'm calling the cops!"

Bridget frowned. "Are you talking to him?"

The clerk nodded, "Yeah, I'm talking to him. Jerk comes in yesterday, stinkin' drunk, grabs a forty from the fridge, starts chugging."

She frowned deeper. "This guy?"

Dean looked at Sam. "You're drinking malt liquor?"

"Not after he whipped the bottle at my head!" the clerk stated.

"This guy?" Dean said in disbelief.

"What? Am I speaking Urdu?"

"I'm really sorry if I did anything-" Sam started but was cut off.

"You know what? Tell your story walking, pal. Popo will be here in five."

Dean put up a hand, "Okay, we're leaving, he's leaving. Put the phone down."

"Dean…"

"Go wait in the car," Bridget said. Sam glanced at the clerk and left. "Okay, look. We just want to talk to you. That okay, sir?"

The clerk slowly put the phone down. "Now when he took off yesterday which way did he go?" Dean asked.

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Because I'm asking you," Dean said. "Do me this favor?"

"Oh, do you a favor? Well, that _is _what I live for. You know, your buddy didn't pay for the booze or the smokes, which he also illegally lit up."

"You saw him smoking?" Bridget asked.

"Yeah. He's a chimney," he said.

Dean took out his wallet and put some money on the counter. "That should cover it."

"He went north on Route 71."

Dean and Bridget left getting in the car and driving out of town on Route 71.

Dean shook his head, "What's going on with you, Sam? Hm? 'Cause smoking, throwing bottles at people –- that sounds more like me than you."

Sam's eyes widened. "Dean, wait, wait. Go down that road."

"Why?"

"I don't know, I just know go that way."

They stopped in front of a house and approached the porch. A security camera was mounted on the side. "Wow, whoever lives here doesn't like surprises," Dean observed.

"Should we knock?" Sam asked.

"I don't know…look," Bridget pointed at the shattered window.

"I'm surprised the cops didn't show, place like this would have an alarm."

Bridget pointed at the busted breaker box. "It was taken care of."

They entered the dark house and found nothing. Bridget walked down the hall while Sam and Dean checked the other rooms. Her necklace began to pulse slightly and she followed the feeling into a dark office. Her eyes widened. "Sam! Dean!" They were at her side seconds later. There was a body lying on the floor. The mans face was covered in blood and so was the carpet.

Sam was in a panic. "Dean, I did this."

"We don't know that," he said calmly.

"What else do you need? I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood—"

Dean cut him off, "I don't know, man, why don't you tell me? Look, even if you did do this, I'm sure you had a reason –- self-defense, he was a bad son of a bitch, something," he checked his pockets. "He has no ID."

"I need your lock pick," Sam said.

Dean hand him the tool and Sam picked the lock on the closet. There was a wall of guns and maps lining the inner wall.

"Holy…he's a hunter," Bridget said in shock.

"I killed a hunter," Sam swallowed hard.

"Let's find out," Dean said and grabbed the security tape, hitting play. On the screen Sam entered the office and began attacking the man. He dragged him to the closet and took out a knife slitting his throat. The man fell to the floor and Sam stood there covered in blood. Dean paused the tape and they glanced at Sam who appeared to be as stunned as they were.

Sam sat at the desk reading a letter from the man's child while Bridget and Dean worked on cleaning it up.

Dean gestured at the computer, "How do you erase this, Sam?"

"I killed him, Dean," Sam said. "I broke in and killed him."

"Listen to me. Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are gonna come looking for his killer, which means we've gotta cover our tracks, okay," Bridget reminded him.

"His name was Steve Wandel. This is a letter from his daughter," he tossed it on the desk.

Dean sighed and grabbed the computer, throwing it to the ground in shatters. Bridget nodded. "That'll work."

He tossed Sam a rag. "Wipe your prints and lets go."

Back at the hotel they tried coming up with a plan.

Dean nodded, running a hand down his face, "All right, we get a couple hours of sleep, then we put this place in our rearview mirror. Look, I know this is bad, okay? But you've gotta snap out of it. Sam, say something!"

"Just get some sleep and leave in the morning? Murder, Dean. That's what I did," Sam said tired.

"Maybe…what about shapeshifter?"

Bridget sighed, "There was no eye flare, no distortion, Dean."

"But it wasn't you, all right? I mean, yeah, it might've been you, but it wasn't _you_," Dean said.

"I think it was," Sam sighed lying down on the bed.

Bridget twisted the ring on her necklace unable to shake her odd feeling. Something wasn't right about this. "What do you mean?"

"For the last few weeks I've been having these feelings," Sam explained.

"What feelings?" Dean asked sitting next to Bridget on the bed.

"Rage…hate. I can't stop it. It just gets worse day by day."

"You never said anything," Bridget said.

"I didn't want to scare you," he explained.

Dean shook his head, "Well bang up job there."

Sam sat up, "Dean, the Yellow-Eyed Demon –- you know he has plans for me. And we both know that he's turned other children into killers before, too."

"No one can control you but you," Dean reminded him.

"It sure doesn't seem like that, Dean. It feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely, I'm just becoming—"

"What?"

"Who I'm meant to be. I mean, you said it once yourself, Dean. I've gotta face up to who I am."

"We didn't mean this," Bridget said.

"But it's still true!" he looked at Dean. "You know that! Dad knew that, too! That's why he told you if it ever came to this—"

"Shut up, Sam!" Dean yelled.

"Dean, you promised. You both promised _me_."

"We'll figure this out," Bridget said getting to her feet. "Okay, no one is going to have to kill you. There's a way."

"Yeah, there is," Sam pulled a gun out of the duffel bag and handed it to Dean. "I don't want to hurt anyone else."

Bridget stared in shock."Oh God…"

Dean shook his head. "You won't. Whatever this is…we can fight it."

"No. I can't. Not forever," his eyes teared over. "Here you've gotta do it." He put the gun in Dean's hand, tears falling down his face.

Dean shook his head, "No."

Sam looked at Bridget and she shook her head, "No. Sam, no." She turned her back away facing the wall, listening.

"I've tried hard to keep you safe," Dean said.

"I know."

"I can't," Dean said and she heard the gun fall to the floor. "I'd rather die." She felt something warm on her chest and her hand slid to her necklace it was getting hot. She frowned. It was going crazy. It only did that when there was a demon. Her eyes widened as she figured it out, spinning around in time to see Sam knock Dean out. He turned to her and she saw the blackness in his eyes, the familiar glint. "Oh God…Meg…"

"Miss me," Sam back handed her and everything went black as she hit the floor.

* * *

Bridget awoke with a groan, tasting blood in her mouth and opened her eyes. It was dark and there was movement going on. She was in the trunk. She moved her hands but found they were tied behind her back and so were her ankles.

"Shit," she mumbled. "Shit, shit…"

Sam was possessed by none other than Meg and took her to finish the job she started years ago not to mention revenge for shoving her out a window. Bridget felt around blindly in the dark for anything sharp but couldn't find anything. She tried bending to reach the knife in her boot but it was just out of reach. The car came to a stop and he relaxed her body, closing her eyes. The trunk opened and she knew Meg was looking at her, trying to tell if she was awake or not. She felt fingers in her hair and tried her hardest not to flinch away. "Just one quick stop at the bar to figure some things out…I'll be right back." The trunk slammed and she opened her eyes.

They were at Ellen's bar but what did she want to know. Bridget struggled harder reaching towards her shoe. "Come on," she gritted her teeth, brushing the top if the knife. "Come on…please…please help me with this." She felt the familiar tingle in her body and could feel the knife slide up her boot. Her fingers were just brushing it now. One last tug and it was in her fingers. She flipped it up and started sawing at the rope which took some work. She got them weak enough to break off and then moved her legs up cutting the bonds from her ankles. The trick was getting out of the trunk.

She slid the knife between the cracks and wiggled it trying to get it to pop free. There was starting to seem like no luck until it opened on its own. She held the knife defensively until she saw Dean staring down at her.

"Dean!" she said with a sigh of relief as he gave her a hand out of the car. "Never thought I'd be happy to see you."

"Where's Sam?"

"Inside. But it's not Sam. It's Meg."

"Meg?" he repeated. "We killed her."

"We killed her host and sent her to hell. She's back and she's pissed."

He touched her lip that had been bleeding. "I can see that."

She tucked her knife in her boot and Dean handed her a gun. "Just in case."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Hoping not."

They walked into the bar to find Sam holding Jo pinned against it as she struggled to get away.

Sam grabbed the knife turning around and holding Jo to the front of him. "Sam, put the knife down and let Jo go," Bridget said.

"Well aren't you Houdini," he mused.

"I got a lot of tricks up my sleeve."

"I told you to stop me."

"Put the knife down, dammit," Dean ordered.

"I told you, I can't fight it! My head feels like it's on fire, all right? Dean, kill me, or I'm gonna kill her! Please! You'd be doing me a favor. Shoot me. Shoot me!"

"No, Sammy, come on," Dean said lowering his gun.

Bridget uncapped the bottle she had in her pocket, making it look like she was tucking her gun away.

"What the hell is wrong with you two? Are you that scared of being alone that you'd rather let Jo die?"

Bridget held the bottle tight and sprung it forward, splashing Sam with it. "Holy Water, you bitch!"

Sam thrashed letting Jo go and jumping through the tavern window. Dean untied Jo. "He's possessed?"

"Yeah, you stay here," he said following Bridget who was already running towards the warehouse after Sam. She paused taking the gun out of her skirt and waiting for Dean.

They entered together cautiously. "Come out, Meg."

"You're no fun," he said from somewhere inside.

"So you've been in Sam for a week," Bridget asked.

"Should've seen your face when you thought he murdered that guy. Pathetic."

"Why didn't you kill us? You had a dozen chances," Dean said trying to find Sam. Bridget was on the opposite side still in eye shot of Dean.

"No, that would have been too easy. Where's the fun in that? See, this was a test. I wanted to see if I could push you far enough to waste Sam. Bridget came close, I give her that. Should've known you wouldn't have the sack. Anyway, fun's over now."

Dean shook his head, "Well, I hope you got your kicks. 'Cause you're gonna pay hell for this, I'm gonna make sure of that."

Sam chuckled. "How? You can't hurt me. Not without hurting your little brother. See, I think you're gonna die, Dean. You and every other hunter I can find minus Bridget because she's too much fun. I need her."

Sam took the opportunity to run out the warehouse. "The roof," Dean yelled to Bridget. "Go!" They both headed towards the staircase running up and out the door. They searched around the darkness and couldn't see him anywhere. "I'll check here. You go there," he gestured to the other side where the barrel were. Bridget nodded, keeping an eye on Dean as he went towards the edge looking down into the water. She checked the barrels but they were empty. No sign of Sam. Her necklace heated then and she gasped turning around in time to see Sam standing a few feet from her with a gun in hand.

"Dean! Look out!" She yelled. He turned too late as Sam fired the bullet striking him and knocking him off the roof.

"No!" She screamed and ran. Sam tackled her, knocking her down and the gun from her hand. He wrapped an arm around her and yanked her to her feet. "Dean! No!" She kicked and thrashed, tears in her eyes."You bitch! I'm gonna kill you, you stupid bitch!"

He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back, "You are going to do exactly as I say or while we're at our next stop I will kill Bobby in front of you. Slowly while you watch. Got it?"

She said nothing. "I'm going to kick your ass, Meg, first chance I get."

"Well until then," he hit her upside the head with the gun, rendering her unconscious. "You can sleep on it."

* * *

Bridget came to as they pulled up to Bobby's house. She sat up and then felt the gun in her side. Sam smiled at her. "Remember what I said? You give any hint, say anything. I'll kill Bobby."

She nodded, biting her tongue. "You remember what I said. First chance, I'm kicking your ass."

"I'd love to see that," he got out of the car walking around to her door and opening it, yanking her out. He tucked the gun away and held her hand tight despite her efforts to break free. He squeezed and she winced. "Play nice."

Sam knocked on the door and Bobby answered. "Hey Bobby."

"Sam, Bridget, where's Dean?" he asked as he let them in walking into the living room.

Bridget swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling that pang of pain in her chest and Sam answered. "Holed up somewhere with a girl and a twelve pack."

"Yeah, she pretty," Bobby asked going into the kitchen.

"Oh you know Dean. She's blonde and young with a short name," Bridget hinted and Sam squeezed her hand.

"Yeah, you know Dean. He's in way over his head," Sam said and frowned looking up his eyes going black. Bridget glanced up and smiled.

Bobby came in handing them each a beer. Bridget drank it thankfully, needing alcohol in her system. "To John, Bridget."

"Oh sorry," she hiccupped and toasted. "To John." She drank again and sighed.

Sam frowned dropping the beer and her hand. Bobby grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. Smoke emitted from his mouth and he fell to his knees. "What did you do to me?"

"A little holy water in your beer. Sam never would've noticed. But then…you're not Sam, are you? Don't try to con a con man," he showed Sam the bottle.

Bridget stepped up to him. "Why don't you sleep on it?" She hit him hard across the face, knocking him out with a sigh. "That felt good."

Bobby bent down picking up Sam and setting him in a chair. Bridget handed him the rope. "How did you know?"

"Dean called."

Her eyes lit up, "Dean's alive."

"Yeah, he's alive."

"Thank God," she said helping secure Sam to the chair. "Meg got a hold of Sam. For some reason she's loving playing with me."

Twenty minutes later the front door opened and Dean came into room. "Dean," Bridget said relieved and hugged him.

"Ow, shoulder," he said.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"I'm not dead," he said and touched the side of her face where a bruise was forming near her temple. "You okay?"

She winced as he touched it, "I'm fine."

He tucked the hair behind her ear after staring at her for a moment. He cleared his throat. "How's sleeping beauty?"

"Sleeping," she muttered turning back to Sam.

"Let's wake him up," Dean stepped into the circle with Bridget and slapped Sam across the face. "Hey!"

Sam blinked his eyes open with a smirk. "Dean –- back from the dead. Getting to be a regular thing for you, isn't it? Like a cockroach."

"How 'bout I smack that smartass right outta your mouth?"

"Oh, careful now. Wouldn't wanna bruise this fine packaging."

Dean observed the cut on Sam's lip. "Seems like Bridget had an okay time hitting you."

"Wouldn't mind doing that again," Bridget smiled.

"Oh, don't worry. This isn't gonna hurt Sam much. You, on the other hand –-," Dean dumped the holy water on Sam causing him to scream. "Feel like talking yet?"

Meg chuckled, "Sam's still my meat puppet. I'll make him bite off his tongue."

Bridget shook her head, "No, you won't be in him long enough. Bobby?"

Bobby began reading in Latin from a book and Dean explained as he withered in pain. "See, whatever bitch-boy master plan you demons are cooking up–- you're not getting Sam. You understand me? 'Cause I'm gonna kill every one of you first."

Sam started to chuckle. "You think that's what this is about. The master plan? I don't give a rats ass about the master plan…seems to me your spell isn't working. I learned a few tricks of my own." He started chanting in latin and the house began to shake. Books and papers were flying off shelves.

"Bobby, what's going on?" Bridget asked.

The trucker stepped forward and lifted Sam's sleeve to show the burn mark. "Shit she's locked herself in Sam."

"What the hell do we do?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," he said.

The ceiling cracked breaking the spell rendering it useless.

"There. That's better," Sam smiled and jerked his head. Bobby and Dean flew into the wall leaving Bridget standing there. He broke the binding from his wrist and grabbed Bridget by the throat. "Consider this your wish granted." He hit her across the face, sending her reeling sideways. He hit her again and she fell, blood dropping from her lip. "Do you want to know why I choosing Sam was so fun?"

"Sure, I love story time," she said and Meg kicked her in the ribs. Bobby and Dean were getting back up and she flung them into the wall again causing them to crumble to the floor.

"I figured if I took a body of someone you loved, you wouldn't hurt me, because killing me means killing Sam," he touched Bridget's face and she jerked away in disgust, he backed handed her. Her hair flew in her face and she looked back with the same amount of hate, blood dripping from her nose as she gasped. "How sad…you love him even though he left you. He didn't want you anymore, no one wants you Bridget…everyone leaves you…everyone you love dies…"

"Because you killed them, bitch," she growled.

He hit her again and Bridget chuckled, turning her face back to Meg. "I'm _really _going to love killing you again someday."

"You know I'm sad to say you're family isn't there, but John is…he was family right…or was he _more_ than that."

Bridget's eyes widened. Meg smiled. "Oh, no one else knows…well when you can see someone's memories, you see _all_ of it. He never told but I know what went on during those hunting trips the two of you took…now you can't save him where he is, tortured in pain screaming…for you."

Bridget lunged, "You bitch!"

Meg hit her hard across the face knocking her out. She turned her attention to Dean who was trying to get up. "Bridget…" he mumbled.

"You know, when people wanna describe the worst possible thing, they say, "It's like hell," Meg said and punched Dean in the face. "Well, there's a reason for that. Hell is like –-," he hit him again. "It's like Hell." He hit him again. "Even for demons. It's a prison made of bone and flesh and blood and fear," he hit Dean harder, causing his nose to bleed. "That's where you sent me."

"Sorry Meg," he said wearily. "Thought it'd be a trip to the Bahamas."

"By the way," he grabbed Dean bringing him closer. "–- I saw your dad there. He says, "Howdy." All that I had to hold onto was that I would climb out one day, and that I was gonna torture you, nice and slow. Like pulling the wings off an insect. But whatever I do to you, it's nothing compared to what you do to yourself, is it? I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You're worthless. You couldn't save your dad. And deep down…you know that you can't save your brother. They'd have been better off without you."

Bridget had gotten to her feet behind her, her necklace pulsing beneath her shirt as she approached Sam. She balled her hands into fist. "I need him," Sam turned around at the voice and Bridget decked him in the face.

She stood over Sam, grabbing his collar and punching him again. "You're really stupid, Meg, to think I won't fight back despite the body you're in," she kicked Meg in the stomach, twice, then pulled him up by his hair and hit him in the face again. "Because I'll kick your ass all night, bitch. Whether you're in Sam's body or not." She kicked him twice in the chest. "You forget, I threw the blonde girl out a window, I'm no mercy when it comes to you." She hit him in the face again. "That was for John."

Bobby grabbed Sam's arm and placed the hot poker on it, burning off the mark as Bridget fell back, tired and beat next to Dean. A black cloud erupted from Sam's throat and vanished out the window.

Bridget sat there gasping with Dean as Sam blinked a few times.

"What did I miss?" Sam asked looking around at his beaten and bruised brother and ex girlfriend.

"Sam?" Dean questioned. "Is it you?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

Dean nodded and hit him in the face, once his face turned the other way, and Bridget hit him causing his face to go back to where it had been. Sam held his jaw that now hurt on both sides. "What was that for?"

Bridget wiped at the blood on her face and glanced wearily at Dean and they both shook their head. She laid her head on the floor, too tired to sit up.

"Bridge, are you okay?" she felt Sam's hand on her shoulder.

"I am peachy," she mumbled and winced rolling onto her back. "Freakin great."

After a few minutes they managed to move to the couch and Bobby handed them each an ice pack. She wasn't sure where to put it or what hurt worse so she went with her face.

"You two look like crap," Bridget joked.

"Right back at you," Dean mumbled as Bobby entered the room.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"You three ever hear of a hunter named Steve Wendel?"

"Why do you ask?" Bridget said.

"Just heard from a friend –- Wandel's dead. Murdered in his own house. You wouldn't know anything about that?"

"Nope," Dean shook his head.

"Dean…" Sam trailed off.

"Good. Keep it that way. Wandel's buddies are looking for someone, or something, to string up, and they're not gonna slow down to listen to reason. You understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah…mind if I take a nap," Bridget asked. "It'd be nice to get an hours sleep that isn't caused by being knocked out."

"Go ahead, hun, guest room is right over there," he pointed at a door right across the way.

"Thanks," she winced getting up and headed to the room to lay down.

"You know that's not sounding like a bad idea considering I chased your as around all over the state while you had a week's coma," Dean joked to Sam and followed after Bridget.

"Mind if I take up this extra space," Dean asked, gesturing to the empty half of the bed.

She patted it, "Knock yourself out."

He kicked his shoes off and eased himself down with a sigh of relief, "I don't think knockin' out is gonna be a problem for either of us right now."

"I need a vacation…," she groaned.

"Me too…hot babes on the beach…" he winced slightly trying to get comfortable.

"You okay?" she yawned.

"I'm beat."

"Good one."

"I try," he mumbled already drifting off. His hand fell onto Bridget's back and he waited for her to object but she was too tired and too far gone to care.

Sam stood watching the two sleep awhile later. Bobby came to stand next to him after awhile. "She looks beat," Sam said still watching her from the doorway.

"Because she is," Bobby said. "She took a good beatin' from Meg."

Sam's face darkened and he leaned his head against the doorway, "From me."

"No, not you. Meg. She possessed you thinkin' Dean and Bridget wouldn't do anything to stop her because they wouldn't hurt you…judgin' by the bruises on your face she was wrong, Bridget got her hits in that's for sure."

Dean rolled over onto his back on the bed next to Bridget. Sam's eyes watered slightly, "I shot my own brother…"

"_Meg_ shot your brother, Sam, you gotta stop beatin' yourself up over this," Bobby reminded him.

"How can I not…" he said. "She hurt them because of me."

"No…they do this for you. There's a difference. You're a lucky guy cuz they won't turn their backs on you."

* * *

Two hours later Bridget and Dean woke up feeling better than they had in awhile despite the soreness. The right side of Bridget's face had taken to a pretty purple blue color and her lip had scabbed over while Dean had a blue green shade on the left side of his face.

"We better hit the road," Dean said.

"Least it won't hit back," Bridget teased. "Anyone know where we parked?"

"Here takes these," Bobby handed them each a charm on a rope to wear.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"Charms. They'll fend off possession. That demon is still out there. This'll stop it from getting back up in you."

"That sounds vaguely dirty, but thanks," Dean said with a nod.

"You're welcome. You three take care now," he waved them off as they got into the Impala.

"You okay?" Bridget asked Sam after a few minutes. "You've been really quiet."

"I was awake for some of it. I watched myself kill Wandel with my own two hands. I saw the light go out in his eyes."

"That must have been awful," Dean sympathized.

He shook his head, "That's not my point. I almost carved up Jo, too. But no matter what I did, you wouldn't shoot."

"It was the right move, Sam. It wasn't you," Bridget pointed out.

"Yeah, but what about next time?"

"Sam, when Dad told me that I might have to kill you…it was only if I couldn't save you. Now, if it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna save you," Dean said and then he chuckled.

"What?"

"Nothing," Dean said.

"No what?"

"Dude…you had a girl inside you for a week…that's pretty naughty," he teased and even Bridget had to laugh.


	27. S2 Roadkill

A/N: School has been kicking my ass but finals are almost here and gone so more chapters to come. Thank you for the patience. I'll hopefully have a new one soon.

* * *

**SEAS 2 EP 38 ROADKILL**

"So when we supposed to find this person?" Dean asked driving down the dark road.

"She should be here," Sam said looking out the side window.

"And this is the right time of the year right?"

"Yes, this is just like always. Trust me I checked and double checked."

"Well you better be right," Dean said. "That's all I'm sayin'."

"Dean! Look out!" Bridget shouted from the back seat

A woman shot out into the middle of the road waving her arms frantically. Dean slammed on his brakes. The car missed her by mere inches and she rushed to Sam's window banging on it. "You've got to help me! Please!"

"That's her," Bridget said quietly.

Sam nodded as he rolled down his window to speak to her. "All right. Calm down. Tell us what happened."

"I was in an accident," she explained as Sam got out of the car. Bridget climbed out of the back seat and stood near Dean listening to her. "I-I swerved, a-And we crashed. And when I came to, the car was wrecked and my husband was missing. I went looking for him, but that's when the man from the road, he... he started chasing me."

Dean sighed, "Did he look like he lost a fight with a lawn mower?"

"Yes…how did you know."

"Lucky guess," he mumbled.

"What's your name?" Bridget asked her, just to be sure.

"Molly," she said. "Molly Mcnarma."

Bridget exchanged looks with the other two. "We should probably take you back into town."

She shook her head, running her fingers through her hair, "I can't. I have to find David. He might have gone back to the car. Can we go there please?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded before Dean or Bridget could say anything. "Come on."

He led her back to the car. Bridget exchanged a look with Dean who seemed just as irritated as she did.

* * *

"It's right over here," Molly said leading the way through the dark woods. But there was no car, just a dented tree. Molly frowned. "I don't understand. I'm sure this is where it was. This…this doesn't make sense." She walked further to investigate.

"Guys we got to get out of here, Greeley could show up any second now," Bridget spoke low to them.

"What do we tell her?" Dean asked, looking at Sam.

"The truth?" Sam suggested.

Bridget snorted. "She'll take off running if we do that."

Molly was walking back and all three looked up at her. "I'm sure this is where it crashed. I don't know who would have taken it. It was totaled. You have to believe me."

"Molly listen," Sam started. "We believe you. But that's why we want to get you out of here."

"What about David?" She asked. "We have to get the cops."

"Cops," Dean nodded seeing his opportunity to get the hell out of there. "Cops... that's a great idea. We'll take you down to the station ourselves. So just come with us. It's the best way we can help you and your husband."

She nodded. "Okay."

Bridget held the door open for her to the backseat then slid in next to her as Dean drove back the way they came.

"We're supposed to be in Lake Tahoe," Molly said out of the blue.

"You and David?" Bridget asked.

She nodded. "It's our five year anniversary."

"Hell of an anniversary," Dean snorted and Bridget smacked the back of his head, giving him a look.

Molly shook her head slowly, a sad expression going across her face. "Right before, we were having the dumbest fight. It was the only time we ever really argued... when we were stuck in the car."

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "I know how that goes."

Bridget reached over and smacked the back of his head, glaring at him the same as Dean did.

"You know the last thing I said to him? I called him a jerk. Oh, god. What if that's the last thing I said to him?" Molly asked.

Sam turned in his seat to face her, "Molly... We're gonna figure out what happened to your husband. I promise."

The radio became full of static and changed through channels. It stopped on a song, 'house of the rising sun'.

"Bridget…Sam…did either of you…" Dean trailed off hoping it was one of their kooky powers going haywire.

"It wasn't me," Bridget shook her head the same as Sam.

"I was afraid you'd say that," Dean sighed heavily. He was so hoping to get back to the city before the crazy ghost figured it out. Looked like their luck had run out.

"This song," Molly gasped staring at the radio.

"What?" Sam asked.

"It was playing when we crashed."

The radio crackled again and this time an eerie mans voice came across the static. "She's mine…she's mine…she's mine."

"What is that?" Molly asked petrified.

Bridget shook her head slowly and moved her eyes up to the road. Greely stood in the middle of it. "Shit! Dean look out!"

"Hold on," he yelled as he floored straight at him, passing through him.

Molly's eyes were wide. "What the hell just happened?"

"Don't worry," Sam told her. "Everything will be okay."

The car shuddered just then and came to a halt as it stalled. Dean tried the key again but the car was dead. "Spoke a little too soon."

Bridget opened the side door and stepped out, speaking to Sam as she moved towards him. "I don't think he's going to let her leave."

"Me neither," he shook his head.

"I can't believe this is happening," Molly ran her fingers through her hair, five minutes away from a panic attack.

Dean popped the trunk. "Well, it's happening."

She saw the arsenal in the trunk and started backing away, eyes wide in fear. "Well…thanks for helping, but I think I got it covered from here." She took off running and Bridget shook her head.

"I'm not going after her."

Sam grunted and hurried after her. "Molly! Wait. Wait a minute!"

"Leave me alone," she shouted.

"No," Sam caught up to her grabbing her arm to stop her. "You have to listen to me."

"Just leave me alone," she said and yanked her arm away, starting to turn away from him.

"It wasn't a coincidence that we found you," Bridget said having caught up to them pretty quickly for wearing heeled boots.

Molly froze, turning around slowly. "What do you mean?"

"We weren't cruising for chicks when we ran into you, sister. We got a chick and she's enough to deal with," he jerked his thumb at Bridget who glared at him. "We were already out here. Hunting."

"Hunting for what?" she asked confused.

"Ghosts," Bridget said with a shrug.

Sam stared at her wide eyed, shocked that she was so blunt. "Don't sugar coat it for her."

"You guys are nuts," she said shaking her head.

Bridget cocked an eyebrow at her, "About as nuts as a vanishing guy with his guts spilling out and his face deteriorating?"

"We think his name is Jonah Greeley. He was a local farmer that died 15 years ago on this highway.

She shook her head. "Just stop."

Sam continued, "One night a year, on the anniversary of his death, he haunts this road. That's why we're here, Molly. To try and stop him."

Molly snorted, "Now, I suppose this ghost made my car disappear, too."

"Crazier things have happened," Dean shrugged and Bridget nodded in agreement.

"You know what? I'm all filled up on crazy. I'm gonna get the cops myself."

Dean shook his head, "I don't mean to be harsh, but I don't think you're gonna get too far."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked feeling threatened.

"Means that plan 'A' was trying to get you out of here. Obviously that didn't go over too well with, uh, Farmer Roadkill," he explained.

Sam sighed heavily, "Molly, we're telling the truth. Greeley's not gonna let you leave this highway."

"You're…you're serious about this aren't you," she said slowly.

Bridget nodded her head. "Deadly serious."

"Every year, Greeley finds someone to punish for what happened to him. Tonight that person is you," Sam told her sadly.

"Why me?" she asked exasperated. "I didn't do anything."

Bridget bit her inner cheek to keep from spilling the rest. She figured this was enough for Molly to swallow at the moment. Sam consoled her. "Doesn't matter. Some spirits only see what they want."

"So you're saying this Greeley, he took my husband? Oh, god." She wrapped her arms around her stomach as if she'd be sick from the knowledge.

Sam put a hand on her shoulder, "Molly, look, we're gonna help, all right? But first, you got to help us."

"Help you how?" she looked up at him.

That's when Bridget and Dean smiled.

* * *

They continued through the woods until they came upon an abandoned looking cabin just ahead of them. "There. That's where I saw him," Molly pointed. As they approached it Bridget felt her necklace vibrate slightly against her skin. She looked around but saw nothing but trees. She shrugged it off. It was her brother after all.

Dean opened the door, no sign of Greely. Yet. "Must have been his hunting cabin."

Bridget scrunched her face at the sight of the blood stained table and rusted looking edge tools though she was sure it wasn't rust on the blades. "Seems like a real sweet heart. Romantic dinners, strolls on the beach…before he cuts your throat."

Sam came in behind her, "No markers or headstones outside."

"You're looking for his grave?" Molly asked.

"Uh huh," Sam nodded.

"Why?"

"So we can dig up the corpse and salt and burn it," Dean said looking at one of the jars on the table.

Molly snorted. "Oh. Sure. Naturally."

"It's a way to get rid of Greely," Bridget said.

Her eyes looked hopeful, "And that'll save David?"

Sam nodded, "This is what'll help both of you, provided there's a corpse to be found."

Molly looked determined suddenly, "So how do we find it?"

Sam shrugged, "Uh, not sure. After Greeley died, his wife claimed the body. And that was the last anyone saw of her. So good guess she brought him back here. But they have a thousand acres. He could be buried anywhere on 'em."

She seemed shocked, "This is really what you guys do? You're like Ghostbusters?"

Bridget thought it over and nodded, "Yeah, you can say that. Those ghost were a lot nicer though."

"Minus the tacky jumpsuits," Dean added. "This is a fascinating conversation and all, but this highway is only haunted once a year, and we got till sun up to wrap this thing up. What do you say we move it along, okay? Great."

"Someone's on their manstruation," Bridget mumbled following him outside with Sam and Molly taking up the rear.

"What are we looking for?" Molly asked from behind her.

"Greeley's house. Maybe he's buried there. Look for roads or paths or something. Stay close."

"Good idea," she said.

In the distance they heard a voice. "Molly? Molly, help me?"

It sounded like a man's voice to Bridget. Next thing she knew Molly was running towards the voice calling out David's name.

"Dammit," Bridget mumbled and ran after her with the two brothers. She saw the deteriorating Greely grab her. Dean took aim and shot at him, causing him to disappear as Sam grabbed Molly.

"Hey? Are you all right?"

She was crying now. "What has that son of a bitch done with my husband?"

Sam calmed her down. "Don't worry. You'll see him again."

Bridget opened her mouth to say something, deciding this had gone on far enough and she needed the truth. But she noticed the broke brick road under her feet. "Hey guys," she pointed at the pavement. "Follow the creepy brick road."

Bridget and Dean led the way with Molly right behind them and Sam behind her so Greely couldn't nab her as easily. They rounded the corner to see a house creepier than the cabin.

"You know," Dean sighed. "Just once I want to find a nice house at the end of a road."

They entered the house after a quick survey to see if there was a headstone, but of course they had no such luck.

"You three check upstairs. See if you can find any notes or records telling us where he's buried. I'll just check down here."

"Why the three of us?" Bridget asked, not really liking having to be teamed up with Sam given she still felt raw from their break.

"Cuz the two of you equal one of me," he grinned.

"You're right," Bridget said dryly going up the stairs. "The two of us equal one of your appetite and double your intelligence."

They entered Greely's room on the left and found old photos and papers shuffled around a dresser and desk near the dust covered bed. Bridget leafed through some of the letters that were to Mrs. Greely. Who knew the creep was married. "Some letters here…to his wife…kinda romantic."

"For a serial killer," Molly added reading some. "How can someone so crazy be so sweet?"

"Spirits like Greeley are,uh... Like wounded animals. Lost. In so much pain, that they lash out," Sam explained looking through the photos of his happier life.

She looked up at him, "Why? Why are they here?"

"Well, there's some part of them that... That's keeping them here. Like their remains or, um... Unfinished business," Sam cleared his throat on the last part Bridget noticed.

"Unfinished business?" Molly questioned.

"Yeah. It could be revenge. Could be love. Or hate. Whatever it is, they just hold on too tight. Can't let go. So they're trapped. Caught in the same loops. Replaying the same tragedies over and over," Sam said. Bridget rolled her eyes at his attempts to hint it to her. She wasn't going to guess it. They were going to have to tell her at some point.

"You sound almost sorry for them," Molly said, not even getting a clue.

"Well, they weren't evil people, you know? A lot of them were good. Just... Something happened to them. Something they couldn't control."

Dean entered the room on the last part, "Sammy's always getting a little J. Love Hewitt when it comes to things like this. Me, I don't like 'em. And I sure as hell ain't making apologies for 'em. There's nothing downstairs."

"Yeah, love letters to his wife but nothing about a grave yet," Bridget said putting down the papers.

Dean frowned and moved closer to the wall noticing it didn't look right, "There's something behind this." He moved a cabinet aside to reveal a door. He tried the door knob but it was closed. Dean turned around and back kicked it but it wouldn't give.

Bridget sighed, "Here let me." She put her hand on the knob and focused on the lock. With a breath out she heard it click and pushed it open.

"How did…?" Molly trailed off as Dean held his hand up.

"Trust me, it's best you don't ask. Besides is this really the weirdest thing about tonight?"

"You have a point," she shrugged and followed in behind them.

"Ughh…it smells like an old lady in here," Dean coughed.

Bridget pointed at the dead body hanging from the ceiling of an older lady, "And that would explain why. Well, now we know why nobody ever saw her again."

Molly seemed sad, "She didn't want to live without him."

Sam moved a chair over to the body, "Dean, give me a hand."

"You serious?" he asked shocked.

"We can't leave her like this," Sam told him getting up on the chair.

"Why not?"

"She deserves to be put to rest, Dean."

Dean grumbled and helped him get the body down. They both carried her outside and dug a grave while Bridget held the flash light with a smug smile.

"You know," Dean grunted lifting dirt. "You could help."

"Can't," she pointed at Molly. "Someone's got to stay with Molly."

"So... So, if you manage to put Greeley to rest, too... What happens to them?" she asked her.

"Lady, that answer is way beyond our pay grade," Dean told her getting out of the hole.

"You hunt these things, but you don't know what happens to them?"

Dean shoveled dirt onto the body, "Well, they never come back. That's all that matters."

Sam shook his head, helping him out. "After they let go of whatever's keeping them here, they...They just go. I hope someplace better, but we don't know. No one does."

"What happens when you burn their bones?"

"Well, my dad used to say that was like death for ghosts, you know? But... The truth is, we still don't know. Not for sure," Sam said looking at Dean. "Guess that's why we all hold on to life so hard. Even the dead. We're all just scared of the unknown."

"The only thing I'm scared of is losing David. I have to see him again. I have to," she said.

Bridget exchanged a look with Sam wondering when he'd tell her the truth or if she'd have to do it for him.

* * *

Molly was pacing in Greely's room, looking through the albums as they watched her.

"I think we need to tell her," Bridget finally said.

"We can't," Dean said.

"Dean, it's cruel, letting her pine for him like this. I don't like keeping her in the dark," Sam told him.

"It's for her own good," Dean said. "I know you feel guilty, but let's just stick to the plan. Let's get her out of here. Then we'll tell her."

Molly heard the last part as she approached them. "Tell me what? What aren't you telling me? It's about David. You know what happened to him."

Sam sighed, "Molly…"

"Sam, don't," Dean warned him.

"Don't what? Don't tell me because I'll mess up your hunt? You don't care about me or my husband," she said angrily.

"That's not true," Bridget said.

"Then what," she said. The radio in the corner came on as the same song from in the car played through. "Oh God…he's coming…"

Dean moved towards the radio and saw on the top of it spelled out in the dust were the words 'she's mine'. A crashing noise caused him to spin around as a figure broke through the window grabbing Molly and dragging her through it with him.

"Dammit, he got her," Bridget shouted going through the window to go after her, Sam and Dean not far behind.

Bridget stopped and looked around but there was no sight of either of them. "Now what?"

"Back to the house," Sam said. "We got to find where he's buried."

Dean shook his head as they entered inside, "This guy is persistent."

Sam started combing through the photo albums for a clue, "We got to find Molly."

Bridget corrected him looking through the papers, "We got to find Greeley's bones. And no pressure or anything guys, but we got less than two hours before sunrise."

Sam paused on a picture, "Hey," he showed it to them. "'February 6, 1992.'"

Dean calculated in his head, "That was like two weeks before the accident, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. It looks like the hunting cabin, but... I swear there's a tree there right where they're standing. Should have thought of it."

"Thought of what?" Bridget asked.

"It's an old country custom, Bridge. Planting a tree as a grave marker," Sam explained.

She snapped her fingers, "That jackass. He was trying to tell me."

"Who?"

"Derek. My necklace vibrated slightly outside the cabin near that tree. I didn't see Greely so I didn't think anything of it. But Derek was telling me that's where he was."

Dean shook his head and pointed at Sam, "You're like a walking encyclopedia of weirdness. Useful but weird," he pointed at Bridget. "And you, you're hot and you're dead brother comes in handy. You should listen to him."

She glared and smacked him upside the head.

He rubbed the spot. "What was that for?"

"He told me to do that," she said leaving the house. Sam chuckled following her.

"Ow, no he didn't," Dean asked rubbing the spot. "Did he…?"

* * *

"Okay, you two go get Molly," Sam said. "I'll get the body."

"I always get the fun stuff," Bridget sighed and followed Dean inside. He shot at Greely causing him to disappear.

"Oh thank God," Molly sighed.

"Call me Dean," he grinned and Bridget rolled her eyes and moved to cut Molly down only to be thrown into the wall by some unseen force. She slid down and got to her feet with a glare. "This guy is pissing me off."

She saw him appear behind Dean and cut his cheek open. A flash of anger went through her and Bridget got to her feet as Greely pinned Dean to the wall approaching him with a knife. She focused her energy on Dean and felt her necklace grow warm. With a mental yank, Dean fell to the floor, shoved by her abilities just as Greely jammed the knife into the wall where Dean's chest would have been. He turned glaring at her and froze bending in pain and bursting into flames.

Bridget cut Molly down and looked at Dean as he wiped the blood from his cheek. "Next time we dig up the body and he rescues the girl."

"Agreed and thanks for that. You do care for me," Dean nodded towards the wall.

"I didn't feel like sewing you shut," she smiled jokingly and walked outside. "Besides, I'd kill Sam without you."

* * *

They approached the Impala and Dean patted her hood lovingly. "Ohh baby, it's been a long night."

"All right. Let's get you out of here," Bridget said rolling her eyes at Dean and opening the door for Molly.

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what happened to my husband," she folded her arms over her chest.

"Molly…." Sam trailed off.

"All this time I've been looking for him, and you knew that... You knew that Greeley killed him, didn't you? He's dead," she had tears in her eyes and this was the part Bridget was not looking forward to.

"No, he's alive," Bridget told her.

"What? You're sure?"

"I'm sure. We'll take you to him. Come on," Sam told her.

Smiling, Molly got into the car. Bridget shared an empathetic look with Sam before getting in after her and driving down the road to a nice suburban house. The lights were on inside, revealing a kitchen.

"He's in that house," Bridget pointed out the window.

Molly frowned. "I don't understand."

"You will," Sam said and got out of the car. Bridget let Molly out and closed the door behind her, staying a few steps behind so she could see for herself. They could see David in his robe handing a cup of coffee to another woman in a robe and giving her a kiss.

"That's not," Molly shook her head at the sight. "It can't be…What's happening…who is that?"

"That's David's wife. I'm sorry, Molly. 15 years ago, you and your husband hit Jonah Greeley with your car. David survived," Sam told her.

She frowned, "What are you saying?"

"We're saying there isn't just one spirit haunting highway 41. There are two. Jonah Greeley and you," Bridget said.

"For the past 15 years, one night a year you've been appearing on that highway," Sam continued.

She shook her head, "No. That's not possible. It was our anniversary... February 22nd..."

"1992," Bridget finished.

"Yes…"

"It's 2007, Molly," she told her sadly, kicking at a stone on the ground.

"Oh God…and Greely?"

"Each year he punishes somebody for his death... chasing them. Torturing them. And each year, that somebody is you."

"But… But I don't remember any of it."

"Because you couldn't see the truth, Molly," Sam told her forlornly.

"So that's why he won't let me off the highway. Because... I killed him. I killed us both," she said tears falling down her face.

"Why didn't you tell me when you first saw me? Why wait until now?"

Dean chuckled a bit, "You wouldn't have believed us."

"And you needed me for bait."

"Well, we needed you."

She looked up at the house. "David…"

"Molly, we brought you here so you could move on," Sam said.

"I have to tell him," she said.

"Tell him what? That you love him? That you're sorry? Molly, he already knows that. Look, if you want to go in there, we're not gonna stop you," Bridget said and gestured at the house.

"Yeah, but you are gonna freak him right out. For life," Dean added leaning on the Impala.

Sam touched her shoulder. "David's already said his good byes, Molly. Now it's your turn. This is your unfinished business."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Just... Let go. Of David. Of everything. You do that... We think you'll move on."

"But you don't know where," she said quietly.

"No. But Molly, you don't belong here. Haven't you suffered long enough? It's time. It's time to go."

She nodded and stepped away from the house towards the sunrise. With one last look at the house she disappeared into the dawn. Bridget sighed, running a hand through her dark hair. "She wasn't so bad for a ghost…just lost. Think she's going to a better place?"

"I hope so," Sam said staring at the sunrise.

"I guess we'll never know. Not until we take the plunge ourselves, huh?" Dean said and got back into the car.

"Doesn't really matter, Dean. Hope's kind of the whole point," Sam said and got in the passenger seat.

"Okay, Haley Joel," Bridget said and tapped his shoulder. "Let's go get some coffee, please…and a shower would be awesome. You two smell like a grave and dead lady."

"Maybe because you made us dig," Dean said.

"It wasn't my idea to bury her," she pointed out, grabbing her sketch book.

"That's right," Dean said and smacked Sam's shoulder.

"What was that for?"

"Making me dig," Dean said.

Bridget smiled as she listened to the banter and opened her book to a drawing of a werewolf. For some reason it made her heart sink…but she had no idea why. She continued drawing a cabin and a film crew just outside the cabin that she had been working on as she listened to the two banter.


	28. S2 Heart

A/N: Good news! Finals are over Thursday so I can post these sooner!

**SEA 2 EP 39 HEART**

Nothing like viewing a dead mangled body to get their day started. But here they were in the morgue staring at the body of Nate Turner, or what was stitched up of him. He looked more like a Frankenstein experiment than a human being at the moment. Bridget loved that Dean wasn't here for this one though. He left her and Sam to it. It was getting easier to be alone with him, despite their history and taking a break from each other which resulted in her either getting a bed to herself or sharing one with Dean for the past couple months. She had to resist the urge to even bring it up or ask him his thoughts about them when she was alone with him, figuring he'd discuss it when he was ready seeing as how he dodged the subject the two times she did try to bring it up in the past. The last being a week ago after dealing with Molly. She focused back on the body.

"That's a pretty nasty bite," she said, sipping her coffee. This stuff no longer fazed her.

"Mm hmm," the employee said, popping her gum.

"You know what bit him?" Sam asked. "Make our job a little easier?"

"I haven't quite determined that just yet," she said and cast her eyes downward.

That sparked Bridget's curiosity. "Come on, off the record. What do you think?"

"Okay, way off the record," she said.

"Yeah."

She leaned in closer. "If I didn't know better, I'd say the guy was attacked by a wolf. But unless I know that the zoo is missing one of their lobos, I'm going with pit bull. I like my job."

Sam chuckled, "Yeah, I hear you. One more thing though…was his heart missing?"

She frowned. "Yeah, how did you know that? I haven't even finished my report."

"Lucky guess," Bridget mumbled into her coffee. Sam was usually right and she had drawn something that could cause this. It was official. They had a werewolf on their hands.

They got back to the hotel room and Bridget was quick to change out of her pant suit back into her denim skirt and an off the shoulder long sleeve shirt. It was a little chilly to wear her tank tops. She came back out to see the two discussing it as Dean cleaned his guns. "So the lawyer guy the first heartless victim?"

"The first man. Over the past year, several women have gone missing. Dead bodies all washed up later in the bay, too deteriorated to draw firm conclusions," Bridget answered taking a seat on the bed.

"But no hearts?"

Sam shook his head, "No hearts. They were all hookers working Hunter's Point. Now, cops are trying to keep things under wrap, but they're looking for a serial killer."

"And the lunar cycle?"

Sam nodded this time, "Mm-hmm. Yeah, month after month, all the murders happen in the week leading up to the full moon."

"Which is this week?"

"He's so smart, Jenny," Bridget teased. "Yes that's why the lawyer is dead. It's the start of a bad joke."

"Awesome," Dean smiled.

"Dean, could you be a bigger geek about this?" Sam asked.

"I'm sorry, man, but what about "a human by day, a freak animal killing machine by moonlight" don't you understand? I mean, werewolves are badass. We haven't seen one since we were kids."

"Great, we're living _Twilight_. I get dibs on any sparkling vampires though," Bridget said.

"And after we kill it we can go to Disneyland," Sam snorted.

"You know what the best part about it is? We already know how to bring these suckers down," he tossed a silver bullet to Sam. "One of these bad boys right to the heart. So, what's our next move?"

"We talk to the girl," Sam said.

Bridget rolled her eyes and grabbed a pair of jeans out of her bag, "Next time warn me before I change my clothes that we're playing cops."

"The cops I wanna play you don't need clothes," Dean smirked and ducked as her shoe flew at him from the bathroom.

"Ha! Missed," he shouted towards her with a grin to Sam not seeing the other boot fly through the air til it hit his head.

"Ow! Son of a bitch."

Sam rolled his eyes and went to wait in the car.

* * *

The girl, Madison, brushed a long strand of dark hair from her perfect pale face as she sat at the kitchen table. Dean, Bridget and Sam stood around her as she shook her head. "I don't understand. I already gave my statement."

Sam nodded, note pad in hand, "Right, well, we just need to verify a few things."

"This is my neighbor, Glen. Glen, this is Detective…" she trailed off having not got their names.

Dean pointed at himself, "Landis and Detective Dante," he patted Sam on the back then gestured at Bridget leaning on the counter. "Then the lovely Detective Craven."

Bridget fought to roll her eyes. He had to use directors from werewolf movies…she couldn't wait to kill vampires again so she could be Detective Stoker or Carpenter.

Glen stood up from the table, patting Madison on the back, "Well, I guess I'll leave you to it."

"Okay. Thanks for the casserole," she told him squeezing his hand.

"Oh how thoughtful," Dean smiled sarcastically and Bridget elbowed him lightly while making it look like she was brushing the hair from her face.

Madison smiled smally at the detectives, "He's sweet. He came over to check on me. Have a seat."

Bridget took a seat next to Dean and continued, "You must be pretty shaken up. You were Nate Mulligan's assistant, right?"

"For two years, yeah."

"So you knew all about him?" Dean asked.

"Probably knew more about him than he did. Nate was…he was nice."

"But?" Sam asked feeling her pause.

"Nothing, really. He had a few scotches in him, and he started hitting on anyone in a five-mile radius. You know the type," she said.

Bridget glanced at Dean and saw that twinkle in his eye and the slant in his lips as he stared at Madison. She nodded, "Yup I know the type." She stepped on his foot under the table. "Did he have any enemies?"

"What do you mean?" she frowned. "It looked like an animal attack."

Dean cut in, "No, yeah, we're just covering all the bases. Anyone that might have had a beef with him –- a former client, an ex?"

Sam saw her face change. "What?"

Madison tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "Well, this is embarrassing, but my ex-boyfriend, Kurt—"

Dean interrupted, "Kurt have a last name?"

"Mueller," she said and Dean jotted it down. "After we broke up, he went kind of nuts. He's…well, he's kind of been stalking me. He got it in his head that something was going on between Nate and I. He showed up at my office."

"What happened?" Sam asked

"Kurt got into it with Nate, threw a punch before security grabbed him. I was lucky to keep my job."

"When was the last time you saw Kurt?" Bridget asked.

"A few nights ago. Actually, the night Nate died. We were all grabbing drinks at this bar, and Kurt showed up."

"And?" she questioned.

She shook her head, "Nothing. It was like he was watching me. Then he was gone. To tell you the truth…he scares me."

They questioned her a little more and then parted ways, walking back to the Impala, "So what do you think?" Sam asked.

"Stalker ex-boyfriend? He hates the boss. And he was there that night," Dean suggested.

"You think he's our wolf?" Bridget asked.

"It's a theory," Sam shrugged.

"We've had worse," Dean admitted.

"What do you say we pay him a visit?" Bridget said with a smile.

* * *

Dean managed to pick the lock on Kurtis's apartment door with no trouble. Apparently security was not an issue for him. She clicked on her mini flashlight and checked the kitchen table for mail while Sam checked the counter and Dean took the fridge.

"Can't seem to find anything here except the address to the shop he works at on his check stub. Anything in the fridge, Dean?"

"Nope, beer and leftovers."

"Check the freezer. Maybe there's a heart behind the Ben and Jerry's," Sam said.

Bridget moved looked up from the table and frowned as she looked out the sliding glass door. She slid it open and shined her light on the wall. Claw marks were etched into the brick and it was definitely not from a dog. "Hey guys. Check this out."

"That wasn't your average pup," Dean stated.

Sam traced the deep marks, "You can say that."

Gunshots rang from the alley directly behind the wall and they ran out through the fence into the alley only stopping when they reached the police officers mutilated body, gun still in hand a terrified look on his face even in death. The wolf was no where in sight. "I'll call 911," Sam said sadly.

"I think Kurtis is our Cujo," Dean nodded.

"We better check on Madison," Sam suggested and they headed to her house as fast as they could to hopefully prevent her death since she was a likely target for Kurtis.

Once there they heard to her door. Glenn stuck his head out from his, having been listening at his door apparently, "What's going on?"

"Police business," Bridget said as Sam knocked on Madison's door.

Madison opened her door a little wide eyed to see them there. "What's going on?"

Bridget glanced at her nosy neighbor, "Maybe we should go inside?"

She let them in and poured them coffee.

"Has Kurtis been here?" Sam asked getting straight to the point.

"Not exactly," she said.

That caused Bridget to frown. "What do you mean?"

"Well, he was outside last night. Just…looking. Just looking at me. Has he done something?"

"We're not sure," Sam said.

"It's probably nothing, but…we just don't wanna take any chances. In fact, one of us should probably stay here with you, just in case he stops by. Where does he work?" Dean suggested.

"He has a body shop," Madison said.

"I remember the address," Bridget said, sipping her coffee. "Got it when we investigated his place."

Madison's phone rang and she sighed. "It's my job. They've been crazy since my boss died. I need to take this." She excused herself to the living room and Bridget wasn't surprised that it didn't take Dean and Sam long to fight over who was going to stay with Madison.

"You go I'll stay," Sam was first to say, stabbing at Bridget a little. She hid her wince behind taking a drink of her coffee.

"Forget that. You go after the creepy ex. I'm gonna hang here with the hot chick."

"And what am I?" Bridget asked offended.

"You're sexy but I'm around you all the time."

"Oh so you want to get rejected by a new girl," Bridget nodded ignoring his glare.

"Dude you always get to stay behind while I do all the work," Sam pointed out.

"Because I'm older," Dean said.

"No, screw that. We settle this the old-fashioned way."

Bridget rolled her eyes, "Oh here we go." They set their cups down and put their fists out for rock, paper, scissors. She already knew Dean was going to lose. He always did. Sure enough Sam picked rock and Dean picked scissors. Sam smiled smugly. "Always with the scissors, Dean."

"Shut up, two out of three."

They played again with the exact same result. Sam patted Dean on the back as he cursed and Bridget stood up putting her cup in the sink. "You're stuck with me, Dean-o. Maybe you'll learn to pick paper every once in awhile."

"Shut up."

"Let me drive," she suggested.

"No."

"Play you for it," she said holding her fist out.

Dean glanced at a smiling Sam who stood there with his arms folded over his chest. "Fine," they played. Dean picked scissors and Bridget had rock. He cursed handing Bridget the keys as she grinned happily. He pointed at Sam. "Not a freaking word."

He held his hands up in defense, still amused. "Not saying anything."

Bridget drove them straight to the Auto Shop where a man in his early thirties was locking the shop doors preparing to go home since it was after eight.

"Excuse me, sir?" Bridget called out as they walked up to him.

He turned around to face them. "Sorry guys we're closed," he nodded towards the Impala. "Though she is a beauty. What a '67 Impala?"

Dean smiled proudly. "Yes, she is."

"Gorgeous car. She run well?"

"Sure does keep her in top shape with-."

"Much as I know you two would love to talk about the car, we're here about your boss, Kurtis? You see him lately?" she interrupted knowing the two would go on for hours.

The guys blue eyes darkened, "That asshole? Hasn't been in all week and when he is he just sits at the desk brooding over his ex. Always in a bitch mood. Never even works. He has me and the other guys do everything while he takes most of the profit as his own. You guys cops?"

"Yes," Bridget nodded.

He nodded, "Well. He does go to the Joint down on 3rd street. If you're looking for him, I'd say he's there blowing his money."

"Thanks for the tip," Dean said and they started heading back to the car. Bridget typed the Joint into her phone and followed the directions. When she pulled up to her she groaned inwardly. The Joint was a strip club and there was Kurtis walking in right as they parked.

Dreadfully she looked at Dean. He sat there and gave her a large grin like a kid who just got permission to go to the candy store. "Looks like we have to follow the job."

She shook her head, "It figures he's not gay, but why can't we wait for him to come out?"

"Sammy said to keep an eye on him," Dean said already getting out of the car.

Bridget followed having to walk faster to keep up. "Since when do you listen to a damn thing Sam says?"

"Oh, I think Sam is right. We should keep an eye on the target. Ladies first," he held the door open for her.

She rolled her eyes, "You would pick now to listen."

Bridget sighed after ten minutes and two declines on lap dances despite Dean's pleas and the bruise he'd have on his bicep from where she punched him for suggesting it the third time around. There was no better time to check in on Sam and make sure things were going smoothly plus give him the update even though the girl on stage was dancing to "Hot for Teacher". She clicked on Sam's name in her phone and inspected her nails while it rang as Dean inspected the breasts on a pole dancer in front of them. Sam answered on the third ring. "Let me guess," she said. "You're sitting on the couch like a geek trying to come up with mindless conversation."

The pause told her she was right. "Did you find Kurt?" he changed subjects.

She glanced across the walkway to Kurtis who was transfixed by a busty girl probably named Candy or Diamond. "Yup, got him in my sight."

"Dean with you?"

She pursued her lips and looked to her left. Dean was grinning up at a blonde girl with big boobs covered by a blue bikini top two sizes too small. "Yeah, he's here."

"He's not gambling is he?"

Dean put a five in her thong strap. "Let's just say he's losing money," she told him.

"Be careful, keep an eye on him."

"Oh we will," she chuckled dryly.

Sadly for Dean, Kurtis left after a couple hours and she was sure three hundred dollars lighter in his wallet. She all but pulled him from the club and drove to Kurtis's place, parking just outside. She turned to Dean. "Shall we get ready?"

"Let's," he nodded getting out of the door. She tossed him the keys and he popped the trunk.

"Which do you want?"

"Just give me the hand gun with some silver and the knife in case he gets too close," she said and he handed her each. She tucked the knife in her boot and the gun at her back while Dean did the same. They watched the light go on in Kurtis's house and waited. Luckily, the street was completely dead.

"So this has been a fun night?" Dean said. "Me and you. Just like old times."

"Yeah, I'm sure the strip club had nothing to do with it."

"Oh come on, that's just fun. You're prettier than those girls."

She rolled her eyes, "Shut up, Dean."

"You are. You can fight which is hot and you're intelligent which they aren't. Plus you're real…seriously you're hair color is your own and your boobs are-."

"Dean," she cut him off. "If you mention my boobs again you're going to find out how real I can be when I knock you out."

"And you threaten me," he grinned. "That's so hot."

She was about to threaten him again when they heard glass shatter from Kurtis's and the lights were out. Bridget pulled her gun out, "What the hell…"

Dean went in first, gun out as she followed behind him. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. Kurtis lay on the floor, torn apart while Madison was crouched over his body, mouth red with blood and eyes an electric blue.

"Oh my God," Bridget managed, worried about Sam for the first time tonight. He hadn't called and was no where around. Had she hurt him? Or worse?

She ran at Dean knocking him into the wall. Bridget had her knife in hand, scraping it across Madison's inner arm. She growled in pain and shoved Bridget who hit the corner of the table, knocking herself out and worrying no more.

* * *

"Bridget? Bridget?" she felt someone shaking her shoulder. "Bridget, wake up? Dammit, please!" she felt a hand caress her cheek as she scrunched her face from the pain. She blinked her eyes open up at Dean. "You okay?" he asked, face etched in worry.

"Besides the massive headache and urge to kill Madison. I'm great."

He helped her to her feet and she saw Kurtis's body still there. They had to get out of there soon. Then she remembered last night. "Sam! We gotta call him," she had her phone in hand and pressed to her ear in seconds as they got to the car.

"If that bitch so much as touched him, I'll kill her slowly," Dean threatened as he started the car.

Sam answered on the fourth ring. "Oh thank God," she exhaled in relief. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he asked confused. "Why wouldn't I be? Are you guys ok? You didn't answer last night."

"We got knocked out, Sam. The wolf is Madison. She killed Kurtis."

"She's asleep. I've been here the whole time," he said.

"Check her arm, Sam. I cut her last night," she instructed and heard him go silent. "Sam?"

"Get here soon," he said and clicked off.

"Well, he's not thrilled because she got one over on him, but now we know," Bridget said.

"And now we take care of it," Dean nodded.

* * *

Sam let them in the moment they knocked, expecting them to have been there any minute. They were both pleased to see Madison tied to a chair though she did look frightened and confused but Bridget could see the bandage on her wrist from where she cut her last night.

Dean smirked at her not noticing her fear or not caring. "How you doin'? My head feels great, thanks."

Sam grabbed him by the elbow directing him into another room. "We need to talk." Once they were both in the kitchen he expressed his concern. "She says she has no idea what I'm talking about."

"She's lying ," Dean shrugged it off.

"Or maybe she really doesn't know she's changing, you know? Maybe when the creature takes over, she blacks out."

Bridget found it reasonable but Dean looked at him like he was a moron. "Like a really hot Incredible Hulk. Come on, dude, she ganked her boss and her ex-boyfriend. That doesn't sound rash and unconscious."

"Yeah, but what if it was, Dean? What if some animal part of her brain saw both those guys as threats? Hell, the cop, too."

"What are you, the Dog Whisperer now?" Dean asked exasperated.

"Look, man, I just…I don't know, there was something in her eyes."

That struck Bridget. "It doesn't matter Sam. If she can't control it then she has to go. There's no reversing this. She can't keep killing people. She almost killed me and Dean."

"I'm not putting a bullet through some girl's chest who has no idea what's happening."

"I'd expect you to do it for me," Bridget said swallowing her anger. "She's still a monster, Sam. She's still killing innocent people."

"And yet Sammy feels sorry for her," Dean snorted.

"Maybe I understand her. Look, there might be another way we can get the job done without having to waste her."

Bridget groaned and Dean spoke for both of them, "Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

"Dad's theory –- "lycanthropy might have a cure if you kill the werewolf who bit you, severing the bloodline".

Bridget pointed out the obvious, "_Might _have a cure. Meaning "who the hell knows?""

"Its worth a shot."

Dean shook his head, "We don't even know where to start looking, all right? I mean, the puppy that bit her could be anyone, anywhere. It could've been years ago."

A light sprung into Sam's eyes, "No. I don't think so."

He rushed back into the living room and they followed.

"Madison, when were you mugged? Please. It's important, all right? Just answer the question." Sam asked her

She shrugged, "About a month ago."

"Did you see the guy?" Bridget asked.

"No he grabbed me from behind," she said. Bridget cringed inwardly. That meant it could be any guy in the area which gave them no room to figure this out and that was if he was still even in the city much less the state.

"Did he bite you?" Sam asked next.

"How do you know that?" she asked.

"Where?"

"Back of my neck," she said. Sam moved behind her and pished her hair out of the way to reveal the scar.

Dean snorted, "Oh, that's just a love bite. Believe me, that could have been a lot worse. Where were you at the time?"

"Walking home from a friend's loft."

Bridget sighed, "Let me guess. Not too far from Hunter's Point?"

"Yeah."

Sam tapped them both on the shoulder to follow him into the other room, closing the door once again. "The same place where those other murders happened. I'm telling you, it's a werewolf's hunting grounds."

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean it's gonna be out there tonight," Bridget pointed out.

"It's the right time of the lunar cycle. Look, I know it's a long shot."

Dean pointed out the obvious, "Hey, you're forgetting something. Maddie's probably gonna turn soon, all right? We can't just let her take off to an all-you-can-eat buffet."

"I'll stay with her," Sam said.

Bridget didn't like that idea, "And what if she gets loose on you?"

His eyes got dark, "Then I'll do it."

"Sam," Dean wanted to be sure.

"I'll shoot her, all right? But Dean, Bridge, I need you both to go out there. At least go look for the thing. Please. We can save this girl."

Dean and Bridget exchanged a look and she gave a slight nod. Dean sighed at her approval but agreed. "Fine, we'll go. You better be in one piece in the morning. I don't wanna be cleaning you up off the ground."

They headed for the front door and Bridget paused to look at him. "I'm serious, Sam. If she gets lose you kill her. No second thoughts because she won't have one on killing you. I can't lose you." She turned to leave but Sam hugged her.

"You won't," he said and she handed him a gun, giving him one last look before leaving with Dean.

"This is a real long shot," Dean said as they drove down to the point.

Bridget bit her nail. "I know. But Sam wants us to at least try and what's one last werewolf either way."

"True then we'll be down two of them."

"You could seriously shoot that girl."

"You bet your sweet ass I could," Dean nodded. "Couldn't you?"

She glanced out the window. "You bet I could…but could you do it to Sam…"

"Not the same thing," he argued getting tense she could see.

"It's almost the same thing because he doesn't remember when he's a monster either."

"Sam's not a monster."

"Yes he is. He's killed innocent people."

"Could you do it then, Bridge?"

"You saw me take out Meg."

"But she wasn't Sam."

Bridget bit her lip. "I never admitted this but I'd have killed her in Sam's body…if you didn't notice I was the only one fight back while she was in Sam's body."

"So you're so hell bent on killing these things you'd kill if it was in our body?"

"Meg? Yes. If you were killing innocent people and there was no way to stop you then yes."

She thought he'd be upset but he just pursued his lips and nodded. "Good to know."

Dean parked the car and it didn't take long to find the wolf at all. He already had his victim. A prostitute by the looks of her heels and fishnets down these streets. Dean took aim and shot catching the wolf in the chest as she shouted to get his attention. The hooker ran off without so much as a thank you and they walked over to the wolf. Bridget was only mildly surprised to see it was Glenn coughing up blood on the ground.

"What happened? Where am I? Help me. Oh, God. Oh my God." He coughed up more blood.

Bridget rubbed his head slowly, feeling bad for him. "All right, easy, Glen. Just take it easy."

Soon his eyes glazed over and he went still. Dean called Sam and let him know. Bridget briefly wondered if she'd ever have to call Dean to let him know the dead was done on killing Sam because she knew she would be the one to have to do it.

* * *

They sat in the car outside Madison's apartment and Bridget finished her drawing of a man wearing a hockey mask and using a chainsaw. She prayed to whatever God there was that this was not a premonition of what was to come. She could deal with demons and cannibals but chainsaw welding maniacs? That was a bit much.

Dean was recalling the night, "It was sort of sad, actually. Glen had no clue what was going on. Hey, why do you think he turned Madison instead of just killing her in the first place?"

Bridget wanted to add an "if" it was Glenn to that but decided against it for now. She had a heavy feeling she couldn't shake that something wasn't right despite him being dead. She shrugged instead, "I don't know. I mean, he kind of seemed to have a thing for her."

"Maybe his primal instinct did, too. Maybe he was looking for a little hot breeding action," Dean guessed.

Sam nodded a bit, "Yeah. Something like that."

"So?" Dean asked.

"So what?" Sam asked.

"Do you think it worked?"

"Well you got the wolf," Sam pointed out.

"No we got _a_ wolf," Bridget finally said.

"How many wolfs do you think there are in this area?"

She put her drawing pad away, "Sam, who's to say Glenn wasn't attacked by the _same_ wolf as Madison around the time? Maybe the wolf that attacked them is long gone. It was a month ago after all."

"It worked," he said sternly and got out of the car.

Dean shook his head, "Let him believe what he wants, Bridge."

She said nothing and got out following them to her door. She opened it before they could knock. "You know, for a stake-out, your car's a bit conspicuous. What are you still doing here?"

"Honestly? We're pretty sure you're not gonna turn tonight, but we've gotta be a hundred percent, so…you know, we're lurking," Dean said.

Sam smiled sheepishly, "I know this sounds crazy."

"Sure does. Well, if we're gonna wait it out…we might as well do it together," she let them inside where they all sat on the couch.

"You were telling the truth, weren't you? About everything. What you did –- it was to help me," Madison said.

Sam nodded, "Yeah."

"I did all of those horrible things…when I turned."

"In your defense, you didn't know," Bridget said.

Madison looked out the window at the dark sky. "So, when will we know for sure? Moonrise?"

"No, I don't think so. You turned middle of the night last night. I think we've gotta hang in until sun-up," Sam shook his head.

Dean clapped his hands together, "Well, it looks like we've got ourselves a few hours to kill. Poker, anyone?"

Bridget didn't realize she had started dozing off at one point until Dean woke her up. "Why don't you go back to the hotel?"

She was going to argue until she realized she had the sudden urge to draw and had left an empty pad at the hotel since the one in the car was full. If she didn't draw out what was on her mind it would cause a headache after awhile.

"Good idea," she nodded and let Dean give her a ride home, making sure Sam knew what he had to do.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" Dean asked.

Bridget shook her head grabbing the room key from him. "No, I'll be fine."

"You sure. I'm a good cuddler," he grinned.

She shut the door and leaned in through the window, "Shut up and get back to Sam. I don't want him alone with a possible wolf he may or may not shoot. Even if he only is down the street."

"Okay call me if you need me for anything and I do mean anything," he wiggled his eyebrows at her, partially serious.

She smiled, "Pervert."

He left and she went in the room, drawing quickly of an abandoned looking house and then a body lying on a bed. The drawing seemed to take only minutes to come out and then she felt exhausted, crawling onto the bed and only managing to get her shoes off.

* * *

Bridget woke up to find it was already eleven in the morning. It was the longest she had ever slept in. By the looks of the room someone had come in at some point and she never heard them. She would have thought it was Sam if the bed next to hers wasn't completely messed up. Sam had a habit of fixing the bed while Dean decided it was the house keepers job. That and the TV was on the adult channel. She gave him points for sleeping in the other bed instead of crawling into hers, which only meant Sam was still at Madison's. Ignoring it for now she took a long much needed shower and read a book after getting food. A few hours later she heard the Impala just outside the window.

"Where's Sam?" Bridget asked as Dean entered the room."It's almost two o'clock?"

"He's…uh…" he hadn't thought this far ahead. Had completely forgotten about his brother's ex girlfriend, well technically still his girlfriend that he was on break from. Bridge was too much one of the guys for him to remember the personal connection at times. Shit. "He's going to stay and help Madison."

Bridget nodded, "Yeah, he does have a thing for rescuing damsels in distress, even if they are werewolves."

"She didn't change."

"I'm impressed," she said closing her book. "I'll go over there and see if they need anything. You hungry?"

"Always," he snorted.

"I'll get you food too."

"And I'll shower while you do that."

"Good, try to stay off the skinamax channel too."

"What?" he snorted. "I wasn't on it."

"Really?" Bridget clicked on the TV.

Dean pursued his lips and smiled, "Well...you see…" he went in the bathroom and shut the door finding no lie to get him out of the situation.

With a smile she turned off the TV and knocked on the door. "I'll be right back."

"Okay," he said from the other side. Dean leaned heavily against the door hearing her leave and leaned his head against it. He was hoping Sam wouldn't do something stupid, like sleep with Madison. He had to live with both of them and if Sam did this…well it was going to make life hell.

* * *

Bridget walked up to Madison's door, having decided to walk the two blocks instead of waste the gas they would need in a couple hours. She was glad they could finally leave today. She was hoping it would make the heavy feeling she was having go away at last. She knocked on the door and waited a moment. No answer. She knocked again and waited another minute. "Sam? Madison?" She turned the doorknob and pushed the door open slowly, stepping inside. She stepped on something and looked down, a collared shirt. She bent down and picked it up. Sam's shirt. She had bought him this one for Christmas, the same shirt he'd been wearing yesterday. Slowly Bridget stepped around and saw the bed. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw her boyfriend lying there sound asleep, naked with only a sheet covering him and an equally naked Madison.

Tears filled her eyes and she dropped the shirt to the ground, leaving the room and shutting the door quietly behind her as she all but ran down the hall and out the building. She didn't stop until she reached the hotel and nearly knocked down the door to the room, slamming it behind her and leaning her head against the door as her tears overcame her. He slept with her. He slept with Madison. Sam, her Sam. Her _boyfriend_ who had needed a break. She thought it was to clear his head with everything that had happened. But it was her. She was the problem she had to be.

She shook her head, still leaning against the door and cried. It hurt.

"Bridget?" she looked up through her tear filled eyes and saw Dean frowning at her, freshly showered and clothed. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Sam…" she managed and shook her head.

He seemed alarmed. "Did something happen? Is he okay?"

"He's fine," she said through gritted teeth. "I went over to see him, take him and Madison to lunch and…and I went in after there was no answer…and I found them, asleep…"

"That's not so -."

"Naked," she added.

"Bad," Dean winced.

Bridget shook her head. "What did I do wrong? Was it something I said? Something I did? Was it me? I mean, I loved Sam…after Will…and now…what did I do?" her voice broke with her tears and Dean moved to her then, putting his arms around her and she sagged against him, burying her face in his shoulder. He held her, moving to the bed to sit down with her while she cried. His brother had screwed up, had broken the one good thing he had going for him and now Dean was left to clean up the mess…and live with them both through this. Live with the brother he loved and the girl he never stopped loving even when his brother had won her over and that was okay, she was happy…but now…he could see the problem that was going to rise from this.

After an hour her crying subsided into hitched breathing every other breath. Dean kept his arm around and her head stayed on his shoulder. He watched the sky outside darken as they sat there together. He tried to think of something to say but nothing came to mind that would fix this or even cause a chuckle to break the tension.

"Don't tell him," Bridget's voice broke the silence

"What?" he asked lifting his head off hers.

She tilted her head enough to look at him without moving her cheek from his shoulder. "Don't tell Sam that I know what happened…between him and Madison…don't tell him that I saw them."

"Are you sure?"

"It'll make things worse, Dean, and I'm going to be bitter enough as it is. He'll think it's from the break we're taking and that's fine."

Dean nodded. "Okay, Bridge…take it you're going to be my bed buddy more often?"

"I take it you'll be sleeping on the couch or sharing a bed with your scummy brother."

"Oh come on. I'm a good cuddler. I promise to only fall asleep with my hand on your ass not your boobs."

He felt her smile as she spoke. "I promise to kick your ass if you try either."

Dean was about to make another remark when the door flew open and Sam came bursting in. The two jumped to their feet as they saw his eyes wide in fear as he panted. "She turned."

"What?" Bridget asked not quite sure she heard him right.

"Madison. She's a wolf. I couldn't grab her in time."

"We'll find her, Sammy," Dean said eyeing Bridget.

She nodded her head. Looked like she'd get to take her anger and hurt out on something after all.

* * *

They sat in the car trying to figure out somewhere that Madison would be. Bridget said bye to Bobby and hung up her phone. "I already called Bobby. He doesn't know anything. Except he knew severing the bloodline wouldn't work. That's everyone. They all say it's impossible to reverse it."

"How come she didn't wolf last night?" Dean asked.

"I think she needs to fall asleep to wolf out," Bridget said and swallowed the lump in her throat as she spoke the next part. "She fell asleep with Sam and wolfed."

He got defensive, "What the hell does it matter? Look, we've gotta find some way to help her, some legend we missed or something."

Dean shook his head, "If there was, don't you think someone we know would've known it?"

"Well, then we have to look harder until we find something," Sam said and Bridget fought the urge to cry at the fact Sam was trying so hard to save her.

"Sammy, I don't think we've got a choice here anymore," Dean said sparing a glance at Bridget that she noticed but decided not to return.

"What?" Sam repeated.

"She's a sweet girl, but part of her is…"

"Evil," Sam filled in, slumping into his seat jaw set tight.

"Yeah," Dean nodded slowly.

"Yeah, that's what they say about me, Dean. So, me you won't kill, but her you're just gonna blow away?" Sam said.

"I'd kill you if I had to," Bridget said and met Sam's eyes unwavering as he looked at her in shock wondering if she meant it. His phone rang breaking their staring contest.

He spoke to Madison on the phone and hung up after a moment, "She's home."

"Let's get this over with," Dean said, starting the car.

* * *

Bridget kept her eyes on the gun on the table. She couldn't stand to look at Sam or Madison without the mixture of hurt and anger rising in her threatening to explode.

"I don't remember anything. I probably killed someone last night, didn't I?" she said across from her.

"There's no way to know yet," Dean said.

"Is there something else we can try to make it go away?" she asked.

"We'll find something. I mean, there's gotta be some answer, somewhere," Sam said.

Bridget shook her head, tired of his lies and false hope. It made her want to scream. "That's not entirely true. Madison, you deserve to know. We've scoured every source. There's just no cure."

Madison seemed stunned as she looked at Sam, "Is she right?"

Sam turned away, too emotional to answer. Bridget winced and stared at the floor. She felt Dean's hand on her arm as he sat next to her speaking to Madison. "I mean, we could lock you up at night, but…when you bust out, and some night you will, someone else dies. I'm sorry. I am."

Tears streamed down Madison's face, "So, I guess that's all there is to it, then."

"Stop it. Don't talk like that," Sam told her. Bridget felt Dean start to rub her arm as she focused on the floor.

"Sam, I don't wanna hurt anyone else. I don't wanna hurt you," Madison cried. She grabbed the gun and handed it to Sam.

"Put that down," he told her.

"I can't do it myself. I need you to help me."

"Madison, no," Sam shook his head.

"Please…I'm a monster."

"You don't have to be. We can find a way, all right? I can. I'm gonna save you."

Bridget closed her eyes at the statement and felt Dean grip her arm tighter, letting her know he was there.

Madison cried harder, "You tried. I know you tried. But this is all there is left. Help me, Sam. I want you to do it. I want it to be you."

"I can't," Sam said.

"I don't wanna die. I don't. But I can't live like this. This is the way you can save me. Please. I'm asking you to save me."

Dean stood up and Bridget opened her eyes as he took the gun from Madison, motioning Sam to follow him to the kitchen. He held his hand out to Bridget who took it only hesitating for a moment but realizing she'd start crying if Dean wasn't near her right now. She stayed near him, trying not to look at Sam or the emotion on his face from having to kill Madison, a girl he didn't even know, not caring for Bridget for a moments thought over any of this.

"Sam…I'm sorry," Dean said.

He shook his head, "No, you're right. She's right."

"Sammy, I got this one. I'll do it."

"She asked me to."

"You don't have to," Dean told him.

"Yes, I do," Sam said and took the gun from Dean. "Just…just wait here."

Bridget waited until Sam left the room and grabbed Dean's arm with one hand, sliding her other one into his. She felt him look at her, could feel it as he took in her broken state and knew that she needed some kind of link and comfort to keep from breaking completely. Sam was so broken, so upset about having to kill Madison, a girl he didn't know yet he had no problem breaking her heart over and over again.

Dean rubbed at her arm with his free hand and she jumped slightly hearing the gunshot ring out, a tear sliding down her cheek. She wanted to hate Madison, but the woman hadn't known about her and Sam…that was all Sam's fault…and she hated that she didn't hate him at all. Almost as much as Dean hated the hurt she was in and hated that he couldn't take it away but hoping he could…some day.


	29. S2 Hollywood

**A/N: I'm out of school so as long as my laptop doesn't break down like its starting to, I can write these out quicker. Leave feedback if you like. It's always appreciated  
**

**S2 EP40 HOLLYWOOD BABYLON**

Bridget sat pouting on the tour around the studio in Hollywood. Not exactly where she wanted to be in Hollywood when they found a case here. She was hoping to hit some shops and possibly the beach. Not be stuck on a tour with a fat kid eating ice cream. She glanced at the kid then at Dean doing the same thing directly behind him. With a sigh she leaned her head back, doing her best to continue to ignore Sam as she had for the past three weeks. She was starting to become a master at it with being stuck in a car with him and she was enjoying having a bed to herself most nights. Dean did most of the talking for both of them and she did her best to direct everything she said towards Dean. If Sam had an issue he hadn't said anything to her yet. She preferred it that way.

The tour guide spoke from the front of the bus, "Now, to the right, here is Stars Hollow. It's the setting for the television series, Gilmore Girls. And if we're lucky, we might even catch one of the show's stars."

Sam shifted uncomfortably and she smiled knowing he hated that show though she didn't know why.

"I think we should get off here," Sam said, getting off the bus.

"I'm liking the tour though," Bridget shouted at Sam with a grin.

"And as a special treat we'll get to see the sets of One Tree Hill," the guide added.

Bridget's eyes widened as she hopped off the bus, smacking Dean's arm. "On second thought, I'm coming with. I hate that show."

"Got some cute characters in it though," Dean said catching up to her.

"You would think so."

"Now that I think about it you do look an awful lot like Brooke."

"Mention it again and I'll kick your ass to the actual one tree hill," she threatened.

Dean probably would have said something more but got distracted by a man walking past them. He patted their shoulders. "Guys, look! It's Matt Damon."

Sam shook his head, "I don't think that's Matt Damon."

"Yes it is."

"Then why did Matt Damon just pick up a broom and start sweeping," Bridget asked.

"Research for a role," Dean said.

"It's this way," Sam pointed as he found the Stage 9 sign.

Dean pouted, "No this way."

Bridget tugged his arm, "We got work to do."

"But this is LA. Swimming pool and movie stars, girls desperate to sleep with an agent."

"You're not an agent," Bridget said.

He grinned, "They don't know that and they _really _want that walk on spot on One Tree Hill."

"Dude come on," Sam grabbed him by the collar of his jacket.

"But swimming pools," he pouted.

"This is not swimming pool weather. It's practically Canadian."

He shrugged out of Sam's grip, "Okay, okay. All right. So, this crew guy - he died on set?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, rumors spreading like wildfire online saying the set's haunted."

"Like Poltergeist?"

Bridget smiled at his movie references. It was just so Dean. "Yes, Dean. Just like it."

Sam frowned, "What?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "You know nothing of your cultural heritage, do you? It was rumored that the set of Poltergeist was cursed. That they used real human bones as props. And, like, at least three of the actors died in it."

"Yeah, it might be something like that."

"So this crew guy, does he have a name?" Bridget asked, pointing the question at Dean.

Sam answered. "Frank Jaffey."

"Is there a death report?" she asked looking at Dean.

Sam switched his weight from foot to foot Dean noticed. This wasn't going to go on quietly much longer like he hoped but it had gone on longer than he thought it would. Sam answered irritated. "No. But the girl who found him said she saw something - a vanishing figure."

"Who's the girl?" Dean asked this time to stop the tension.

"Tara Benchley."

Dean paused eyes wide. "Whoa, whoa, Tara Benchley? From FeardotCom and Ghost Ship, Tara Benchley? Dude, why didn't you say so?"

"Now you're ready to help?"

"Oh, I mean, I'm just a fan of her work. She's very good."

"I'm sure that's why," Bridget said as they walked onto the stage.

The minute they did they were noticed by an important looking guy in a business suit. "Hey you. Green shirt guy."

Dean looked confused as he walked over. "Can you go get me a smoothie from the Kraft cart?"

"A what from where?"

The man looked irritated. "You are the PA aren't you?"

Bridget hurried over taking the twenty. "Smoothie coming right up. What flavor?"

"Go strawberry."

"Awesome. Do you want it crushed or smoothed?"

The guy started to relax, "Go smoothed."

"And one last question, apple juice or milk?"

"You're good," he smiled. "Apple juice. Get one for yourself too, cupcake."

"Right on it, sir," she nodded and grabbed Dean.

"What the hell is a PA?"

"Production Assistant. It means you're a gopher."

"A gopher?"

"Yeah. Go for this. Go for that."

He winced as they got to the Kraft cart and Bridget ordered, "A slave."

"Welcome to Hollywood. That'll be our role here. The three of us are slaves to the industry."

"Least you're starting off well," Sam said to her.

She ignored it with a shrug and took the smoothies. "Looks like I got work to do. You both better find something to stay on that set."

* * *

After watching a couple takes of a Latin reading scene for the movie the three regrouped at the Kraft's table. "You get any reading's?" Sam asked them.

"No EMF's anywhere on my end," Bridget said.

"Nothing," Dean shrugged picking up a sandwich.

"Then what do you think?" Sam asked.

"Well, I think being a P.A. sucks. But the food these people get, are you kidding me? Look at these things," Dean held up his sandwich. "They're like little mini Philly cheese steaks. They're delicious. What did you find out about the dead crew guy?"

Bridget sighed. "Frank Jaffey was just filling in for the day. Nobody here knew him or where he lived or anything."

"Oh great so you found out as much as I did," Dean snorted.

"Listen, I did dig up some stuff about Stage 9's history," Sam said.

"Yeah?" Dean said. Bridget tilted her head a little to listen.

"Yeah, four people died messy here over the past eighty years. Two suicides and two fatal accidents."

"Any one of those could be a vengeful spirit," Bridget said with a nod.

"Yeah. We've just gotta narrow it down more."

They both noticed Dean was no longer paying attention. He was fixated on Tara. "You know, I'll get right on that." He grabbed a call sheet off the table and was gone before either could stop it.

"I'm sure you will," Bridget mumbled and grabbed a soda prepared to leave as well then be stuck there with Sam.

"Where you going?"

"Back to work. Gotta find this ghost before it finds someone else." She moved back into the crowd of workers before Sam had a chance to stop her.

* * *

"You sure about this?" Sam asked.

"If Dean says he knows the guy from some B-rated movies then you can be sure it's him," Bridget said remembering how Dean would stay up watching the late night horror flicks in the middle of the night.

Dean knocked on the door and an older gentleman answered. Dean smiled. "Gerard St. James?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"You're still alive. And you're not Frank Jaffey."

"Uh…no," he said sheepishly.

"You were Desert Soldier Number Four in Metalstorm: The Destruction of Jared-Syn?" Dean asked.

"I was."

Dean grinned snapping his fingers. "I knew I recognized you. I am a huge fan. I mean, your turn as a tractor crash victim in Critters 3?"

"Yeah," the guy beamed and opened the door. "Please, come in."

He brought them out some coffee as they sat on the couch. Dean admired all the pictures on the wall from the various small characters he played. "Yeah, it was the producers. They brought me up for the day to play Frank."

"To fake your death?" Bridget asked.

"Well, rumors of a haunted film set, free publicity, especially when you're making a horror movie. It's already all over the Internet."

"We know," Sam nodded.

"These days, it's all about new media, building buzz. They say I'm the new LonelyGirl," Gerard said.

"The ghost Tara saw?"

"Projected on a screen of diffusion," he shrugged.

"Isn't that kind of cruel? Messing with their heads like that?" Dean asked.

"Hey, I just play the part. I don't write the script. Speaking of, I'm playing Willy in a dinner theatre production of Salesman at Costa Mesa, all next month."

"Now wait a second, if you're in public won't that ruin the stunt?" Bridget asked.

He waved it off with his had like it meant nothing, "Oh, please. Frank and Willy? Totally different characters."

Sam stood up, "You know what? Thanks very much, Mr. St. James. It was just nagging at us. But we're very glad... you know, you're alive and well."

"Absolutely," Dean shook his hand and the three left the house.

* * *

They were surprised on set the next morning to find Brad had been killed. Something that had seemed to be a prank was becoming far to real on the set.

"I thought this was just a gimmick," Dean said as they grouped by the Kraft table. He was loading a plate with taquitos.

"Looks like something might really be going on. I don't think it was a suicide like they're said," Bridget said, sipping a Dr. Pepper.

"Me neither," Sam agreed. "Seems like something is going on. Question is what?"

"Any EMF readings?" Dean asked.

He nodded. "A ton all the sudden. How's it going on your end?"

"It is going really good, man. Tara's really stepped up her performance. I think it's probably from all the sense memory stuff she's drawing on."

"Dean, you know when I ask how it's going in here, I'm talking about the case, right? We don't really work here. You know, I thought you hated being a P.A."

"I don't know. It's not so bad. I kind of feel like part of the team, you know?"

"You are part of a team," Bridget reminded him. "I checked the morgue. Brad is dead for real."

"Good thing we didn't leave," Dean said with his mouth full. "Oh…I do have something I want you both to check out." He grabbed a CD case next to him and led the way to an empty trailer.

"What is it?"

"A take from yesterday when Brad died. Listen," he put it in the DVD player and hit play. Bridget leaned forward.

"All right. Here's where dude falls through the roof," he pointed at the screen.

Bridget frowned. "Whoa, whoa. Rewind that back. Did you see that?"

Sam nodded and leaned closer, "Yeah, go back to where he falls through."

"Stop. Right there!" Bridget said. In the shot was a woman in white who wasn't part of the shot.

"It's like Three Men and a Baby," Dean said.

Bridget nodded, "Yeah it is. Creepy."

Sam looked at the two of them confused. Bridget sighed. "Dean, explain."

"There's a scene in the movie where people say that the camera caught a ghost on film. Apparently, in the background of one of the scenes, there was this boy that nobody remembers from set. Spirit photography."

"I've seen her before," Sam said pointing at the screen. He grabbed his bag that was next to him and pulled out a bunch of papers hurrying through them til he came across one he pulled out. "See. Here it is. Elise Drummond - starlet back in the thirties. Had an affair with a studio exec. He uses her up, fires her, leaves her destitute, so Elise hangs herself from Stage 9's rafters, right into a scene they're shooting."

Bridget looked over his shoulder. It was the ghost from the film. "Just like our man, Brad. So, what, she's got it in for the studio brass?"

"Possibly. I mean, it's a motive. And Brad's death matches hers exactly."

Dean frowned. "We're digging tonight aren't we?"

* * *

Walking through Hollywood Forever Cemetery was something that was needed to be done during the day. There were tombstones that cost more than the Impala Bridget was noticing. One they passed had a waterfall trickling off it. She guessed they decided to take their money with them after all. She glanced over at Dean who held the map. Ever thought she'd see those being sold for a cemetery. If they had them in all states it would make their job easier.

"Which way?" she asked.

Dean checked, switching his shovel to lean on his shoulder. "Uh, this way." He pointed to the right. "This map is totally worth it. We gotta check out Johnny Ramone's grave after."

"Why?" Sam asked. "You wanna dig him up to?"

"You hold your tongue," Dean said seriously then was distracted by another large grave. "Oo, that one's cool."

"You know, Dean, what I don't get is why now? I mean, after seventy-five years, Elise Drummond suddenly goes homicidal, you know? Why this movie?" Sam said with a shake of his head.

"Well, maybe she's mad they're making a scary ghost flick."

"Please, its not that scary," Bridget said.

"Here it is," Dean pointed at the headstone.

Bridget handed Sam the shovel. "You boys get to it. You dig faster than I can anyway."

"Oh gee, thanks," Dean mumbled and started digging while Bridget sat back and watched. Fifteen minutes later they struck the coffin and opened it up to find her bones. Sam poured the gas and jumped out while Bridget dropped the match letting it catch fire. "That's all folks."

"Isn't that on Mel Blanc's tomb?" Dean asked pulling out his map.

"I don't know," she smiled, "Let's go find out."

Sam shook his head, "It scares me. You two act like kids at Disneyland while in a cemetery."

"You enjoy it to, sour puss," Dean called out.

Sam shook his head but followed the other two anyway. Glad it was over.

* * *

They leaned on the Impala listening to McG talk about the latest "accident" on set. They were dumbfounded as they stood there. They had burnt the body, it was the right tomb, the right person.

Bridget shook her head. "This can't still be happening."

"Oh it is," Dean nodded. "Question is why."

"Run-in with a giant fan. Same thing happened to an electrician back in '66, a guy named Billy Beard," Sam informed them.

"What the hell, dude?"

"I don't know. Doesn't seem like Elise this time, either. It's not her M.O."

"No we burned her," Bridget reminded them as they walked back inside the Stage to try and figure this out. "So, what, are we dealing with another ghost?"

"Maybe," Sam shrugged.

"A tag team?" Dean said confused.

"Problem is the electrician was created," Sam said.

Bridget grabbed a Snapple off the table and watched as they filmed the scene in the cabin once again. "So now what?"

"No idea. Anymore ghost cameos in the dailies?" Dean asked.

Bridget shook her head, "Not in the first six hours. You know, maybe the spirits are trying to shut down the movie because they think it sucks. Because, I mean, it kind of does." She gestured at the scene. They watched and she started to frown as Kendra read the Latin. She glanced at Dean who didn't notice but the look on Sam's face said he did.

"Sam…you hearing this," she said having no choice but to talk to him directly.

He nodded. "Yeah I am…"

"Hearing what?" Dean asked.

"Listen to the invocation. Dean, that's the real deal - a necromantic summoning ritual. What the hell is that doing in a Hollywood movie?" Sam pointed out.

"Let's go have a chat with the writer," Bridget said and started heading back out to his trailer.

They knocked on his door and he answered letting them in. "Hey, we're shut down for the day."

Bridget smiled brushing a strand of dark hair from her face, "Yeah, uh... sorry, man. We couldn't help ourselves. We just had to tell you that we read the script."

"And?" he asked

"It was awesome," she smiled.

"Really awesome," Dean agreed.

"Totally…" Sam added.

"I know, it's pretty rockin', right? I'm glad you guys liked it." Marty said eyeing Bridget as he said. "Wish I'd known you liked it sooner. Could have gotten you a part."

"Yeah, I really liked all the attention to detail," she said, ignoring him.

"Right on, sweet heart, that's my thing. Color me guilty, but that is me. I'm a total detail buff."

"No, I can tell. I mean, the way you worked in all those Enochian summoning rituals and all the authentic language," Sam said.

Marty's smile faded. "What, you mean that Latin crap? No, man, that's Walter. Walter Dixon, the original writer. You like that garbage?"

"Oh, I don't," Bridget shook her head. "But he did. Total nerd stuff."

"Yeah. Walter wrote that crap. He has a clause in his contract to be on set."

"But he wrote the invocations?" Sam asked.

"He wrote a whack-job screenplay. There's no pace, there's no love interest, it's all wackadoo exposition. I had to cut, like, ninety percent of it to make it readable, the other ten percent to make it good."

"And it is really good," Bridget nodded. "But thank you for your time."

"If you ever want a part in a movie let me know," he smiled at her and his eyes flicked over her. "They're remaking The Hitcher. Can totally get you in?"

She smiled but couldn't get it to quite reach her eyes. "Try Sophia Bush. She might be desperate to get off One Tree Hill." She slammed the door behind her and pointed at Dean, letting it be his only warning.

"We need to read the original Screenplay," he said instead.

"I'm sure we can get that," Sam said.

They had it in their hands and were reading it in a trailer twenty minutes later. "They should have kept this. Its way better," she said.

Sam shook his head, "Yeah. And it reads like a how-to manual of conjuration, like a textbook on how to summon ghosts and get them to do whatever you want."

"Like kill people," Dean agreed.

Sam put the script down, "Yep. So, let's say somewhere down the line, Walter learned some pretty black magic."

"Yeah. And let's say he's pissed at these people for wrecking his movie," she added.

"Motive and means," Sam said.

"Meaning he'll want to kill the man responsible for butchering his screenplay to begin with…," her eyes met theirs and they rushed out of their seat at the same time running out the trailer door towards Marty's. Dean banged on the door but the writer wasn't there.

"Shit! Now what?" Dean asked them.

Bridget looked around and her eyes stopped on Stage 9 as her necklace got warm. She touched the ring around it pointing at the Stage. "He's there."

The ran towards it. "You sure?" Dean asked.

"Have I ever been wrong?" she asked.

"Good point," he said as they came to a skidding halt as Marty was being pulled towards the large fan. Walter wasn't standing far away.

"I got Marty, you guys get Walter," Dean said. Bridget put her difference aside as she hurried up the stairs to the scaffold, Sam right behind her. Down below Dean shoot the ghost and shut the fan off, helping Marty to his feet. He looked up to watch the two get to Marty and realized he had sent Bridget with Sam. She'd probably kick his ass for it later but their mental capabilities together might have come in handy.

"What are you guys doing?" Walter asked, backing up slowly.

"We could ask you the same thing, Walter," Bridget said moving slowly.

Walter ran up the next flight up the stairs and they followed.

"Raising these spirits from the dead? Making them murder for you? That's playing with fire, Walter," she said.

"Neither of you understand," he said angrily.

Sam nodded, holding his hands up in defense, "You know what? You're right, we don't understand."

"Just... wait, look. You put your heart and soul into something, years of hard work. It's years, and then they take it! And they crap all over it! And then they want you to smile and say, "Thank you"," he said.

"Walter, listen. It's just a movie. That's it," Sam said.

Walter scoffed, "Look... I've got nothing against you, man. You're not part of this. Just please, please, just leave. But Martin's gotta stay."

"Sorry, can't do that. It's not that we like him or anything, it's just a matter of principle," Bridget said.

"Then I'm sorry too," he shrugged.

Walter started chanting again, holding the talisman.

"Walter! No!" Sam yelled as ghosts began to appear around them. Suddenly they all disappeared and Sam was being dragged across the floor.

"Sam," Bridget yelled and Dean shot it from below. It let Sam go and she helped him up hurrying down the stairs to Dean where they ran into another building slamming the door behind them and reloading his gun.

""Come out to the coast! We'll get together, have a few laughs!"" Dean muttered.

"Not the time to quote Die Hard," Bridget said. "Not unless you're using yippie ki yay."

"Dammit," Sam said and they turned around. They were in the abandoned house set.

"You gotta be kidding me," Dean said angrily.

Marty was panicking, "I can't believe this. Ghosts are real!"

"What makes you say that," Dean asked sarcastically.

"But I don't understand. How is Walter controlling them?"

"The talisman around his neck," Bridget answered.

Sam took his cellphone out of his pocket, putting it to camera mode.

"What are you doing?" Marty asked.

"I mean, if film cameras pick these suckers up, then... maybe..." his eyes widened and he pointed ahead of Dean. "Dean! Ahead of you!"

Dean shot and it disappeared on Sam's phone. "Got him," he scanned the phone. "There!"

Dean shot again and Sam handed Marty the phone as he noticed Walter running above them on the scaffold. "Here you get the idea."

Bridget followed him, deciding two and two was better and no one should split up. "Head him off," she told Sam. "He's going out the back exit." They ran the other way and up the stairs waiting at the door. Just as she thought he burst through it to come face to face with them.

"It's over, Walter. Now give it to me," Sam held his hand out.

Walter ripped it off his neck and threw it to the ground, shattering it. Bridget and Sam were already stepping back from him, eyes wide at what he just did.

"There! Now no one can have it," he said.

Bridget shook her head, "You really shouldn't have done that."

"Oh yeah," he said smugly.

Sam nodded, "Yeah…"

"Why not?"

"Because you just freed them. We can't stop them now. Walter, you brought them back, forced them to murder. They're not gonna be very happy with you," she explained.

Marty and Dean appeared through the door and Dean saw the shattered pieces on the floor.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"This is gonna get ugly," he sighed.

Just as the words left his mouth Walter was knocked to the floor and started screaming as blood flew everywhere. Marty held up the phone, watching in awe as the ghosts tore him apart. Dean pushed his hand down slowly as Marty's screaming died and the ghost disappeared. "Dude, come on."

Marty followed him out, "That'll be great in the movie."

Bridget shook her head and started out the door. Sam put his hand on her arm as they reached the scaffold outside the door at least away from the gore. "You've been ignoring me for the last few weeks. Don't think I haven't noticed. What is wrong?"

She shook her head with a small smile, really not in the mood to be having the discussion she'd been putting off. "You're really stupid if you have to ask me that."

"What did I do?" he asked as she ripped her arm from his grip.

"I saw you, Sam…" she said and finally lifted her gaze to his. "I saw you with Madison."

She saw the realization dawn across his face as he moved his gaze to the floor. That was the confirmation she needed. "See…you know what I'm talking about…"

"Bridget…I'm…"

She held up her hand. "Spare me. Because you're not sorry. You're only sorry you got caught. Do you know how it felt, Sam…Meg possessing you and beating the crap out of me was nothing compared to me finding you with Madison…and then seeing how upset you were over having to kill her…" she said through clenched teeth. "Part of me wondered why you did it? Why I wasn't good enough? What I did wrong? Why you couldn't care for me like that?" she let out a half sob and fought to control herself. "And to be honest, the other part of me doesn't really give a shit."

"Bridget, I didn't mean for this to happen…"

"Shut up, because it's done. You know what the bitch is, Sam?" she asked him angrily. "The bitch of the matter is that despite you hurting me like this, despite you breaking up with me and then breaking my heart until I had to fight with myself to get out of bed and continue doing this job because looking at you tore at me so much more then I could stand…despite all of it, I still care for you, you're still my friend…and that hurts so much more." She turned and walked away before he could see the tears.

* * *

Bridget waited outside the trailer door as Dean stepped out looking disheveled with a huge grin on his face just as Sam approached as well. She was really ignoring him now but this time he was letting her. Tara came to the door in only a robe and she smiled shaking her head into her coffee cup.

"You're one hell of a P.A," she told Dean.

"Thanks," he grinned as she went back inside.

The three started walking towards the car. "I love this town."

"You would," Bridget snorted.

"It was great."

"Yeah watching a guy get torn apart is always fun."

"Besides that."

"You mean the rocking sex you got. Not me."

"You still can."

"Don't push it," she warned.

Dean opened the doors and got in but paused when he noticed Bridget only grabbed her bag from the back and shut the door. He got out and frowned at her over the top of the car. Sam paused getting in, noticing suddenly she wasn't in the car either.

"Aren't you coming?" Dean asked gesturing at the car, worried she was leaving them.

Bridget smiled, sliding on her sunglasses. "I'll meet you guys out there. I'm going to take some personal time."

"Personal time from what?"

She kept a smile on her face despite the momentary pit in her stomach. "From everything. From work. From demons. From blood and bruises. From not sleeping. From being stuck in a car. From both of you. I'm taking a vacation. I'll call you guys, find out where you are."

"Is that safe?" Sam asked.

"Considering how many times I've nearly been killed on a weekly basis, I think I'm pretty safe," she slung her backpack over her shoulder and glanced at her watch. "It's nearly time for me to check in to my hotel."

"You made reservations?" Dean asked shocked.

"Yup, a week ago. Been planning this for awhile. I got a seven o'clock massage tonight with Steven," she grinned. "Then a spa treatment all day tomorrow then I'm going to sit poolside for hours on end and just relax. You guys have a ball. See you in a week," she said and got into the taxi that was waiting for her near the car, closing the door before they could say anything else.

"I can't believe she did that," Sam said.

"Really? Because I can't blame her," Dean argued.

"Why? She left us."

"She needed to, Sam."

"Why?" he asked as Dean started the car.

Dean gave him a look, "If you need to ask me that after everything you put her though then you really are an idiot. You're an idiot for letting her get away from you to begin with and screwing it up."

"Like you don't screw up."

"No on someone like Bridget, Sam. That was a real screw up. You have no idea what you lost," he said with a shake of his head and started the car, driving off hoping to have Bridget back soon because he already missed her.

**S2 EP41 FOLSOM BLUES**

**(END)**

It had been the best five days of her life so far. No demons. No running. No fighting. Just peace and quiet and lots of relaxation and girly drinks. She basked in the sun deciding she could enjoy this forever though she'd never admit out loud she was missing Dean's company. Only because he'd always been there with her and now he wasn't. She couldn't get used to not threatening him all the time. That was the only thing that bothered her. She hadn't heard anything from them since which meant they were okay since Dean wouldn't disturb her vacation unless he needed to. She smiled and adjusted her sunglasses.

"Ma'am?" a pool boy kneeled next to her with a smile, holding a phone. "Telephone call for you from a Mr. Singer."

Bridget groaned. If Bobby was calling her on her vacation that wasn't a good thing. Mainly because she didn't tell Bobby where she was staying and had used a false last name. But he had found her five days into her break which was actually a day longer than she thought it would take for Sam and Dean to get into trouble.

She sighed and stood up, taking the phone from him and tipping him a five. She walked to a secluded area before answering. "This had better be damn important to interrupt my pool time. What did they do, Bobby?"

"Hello to you to," he said. "How's California?"

"Be better if Floyd and Harry wouldn't get into trouble to have you search me out. What did they do?"

"Short story, they're in prison."

She almost dropped the phone, "Well, that's a new one. I was expecting a witch or crazy cannibals. But the law, that's a tough one."

"Yup. Need you to come here. Get Dean's car. Don't worry, they'll do all the rest."

"They better because the owe me. See you soon," she hung up and sighed going back up to her room to change and pack. At least she got the five days. It was better than nothing and definitely better than prison.

* * *

Bridget smiled as she drove off in the Impala after the boys jumped in the car. Bobby was right. All she had to do was be at the spot and they did the rest. She just had to press the gas. "I go on vacation for a week and you guys get arrested five days into it," she sighed. "You boys just fall apart without me."

"How was your vacation?" Dean asked from the back seat.

She snorted, "Better than yours. I wasn't some convicts bitch, eating half cooked cafeteria food."

"How'd it go and how'd you find us?"

"It was great until I got a call from Bobby tellin' me you two bozos were arrested and in prison."

"You missed us and you know it," Dean smiled.

"I missed you all right Dean," she corrected, not bothering to look in the review mirror at Sam. "I missed you." She was surprised by how much she meant it. How much more comfortable she felt with Dean near her. But she'd never admit it out loud.


	30. S2 All Hell part 1

**A/N: Sorry it took so long and this was so short. Had another issue with my computer but its back up. Enjoy**

**S2 ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE PART 1**

She turned the page in her latest Anita Blake novel, enjoying the book more than her current surroundings in the back of the Impala as they parked in front of a diner to get lunch. She sighed. She'd rather have Anita's life. At least she had ten guys she was sleeping with instead of none and at least her company was charming.

"Hey, don't forget the extra onions this time, huh?" Dean said.

"If you get extra onions then you're sleeping with Sammy tonight," she reminded him.

"Dude, we're the one who have to ride in the car with your extra onions," Sam told him getting out of the car.

"Hey, see if they've got any pie." Dean reminded him.

Sam shook his head. "Bridget, anything?"

"Burger and fries. No onions," she turned the page, not looking him in the eye but at least she was technically talking to him. With a nod and his lips pressed in a firm line, he patted the car and walked into the diner. She glanced up from her book to see him talking to a waiter before going back to story.

"Least you're talking to him again," Dean sighed.

"Baby steps, Dean," she told him.

"You do realize I have to live with you both."

"You do realize he cheated on me and he's lucky he has no broken bones or concussions," she pointed out.

"Touche," he nodded.

The radio stopped playing AC/DC and static started coming from it. Dean reached over and turned the knob, pressing on a few buttons but nothing worked. Bridget glanced up from her book with a frown until suddenly it turned off.

"Weird," she muttered. She was about to go back to her book when she noticed the diner. There was no Sam and no waiter but there was a red substance smeared across the glass door. The book fell from her hands and she was already scrambling out of the car calling Dean's name. "Dean!"

He had noticed too and both were running towards the diner. She burst through the door, gun in hand and gasped. There was a large puddle of blood at her feet and one customer lay in a pool of blood in a booth, their throat slashed.

"Oh God…Sam!" she shouted.

"Bridget," Dean said quietly. She turned around and saw the white substance on his had along with all around the door. "Sulfur…"

They ran back outside looking around the empty streets.

"Sam!" she yelled running her fingers through her hair as she looked around.

"SAM!" Dean yelled after her just as panicked. "Where did they take him?"

"I don't know…" she bit her lip. "But we'll find out. Come on," she jumped into the front seat as Dean got into the driver's seat. She called the only person who could help them.

* * *

Bobby met them down the highway fifteen minutes later and brought the map she had asked for. The three stood there with it spread over the Impala, trying to figure out where it could have taken Sam. But there wasn't a lot of choices, the map was virtually empty.

"This is it. All demonic signs and omens over the past month," Bobby said.

Dean shook his head. "There's nothing on it."

"Exactly," Bobby sighed.

"Well, come on, there's gotta be something. What about the normal, low-level stuff? You know, exorcisms, that kind of thing."

"That's what I'm telling you: there's nothing. It's completely quiet."

"How are we supposed to find Sam in complete quiet…they're never this quiet," Bridget said and couldn't help the shudder that ran down her spine even though it was warm out.

Bridget's phone rang and she answered, glad to hear from Ash. "What do you got, bro?"

"Okay, listen, it's a big negatory on Sam," he said from the other end.

Bridget hung her head rubbing her eyes with her free hand. "That's not what I want to hear, Ash."

"I did find something though, Bridge," he said.

"What is it?" she asked, hope coming back into her.

"I can't talk over the phone."

"Ash, we really don't have time for this," she all but growled.

"Not only does this almost definitely help you find your brother, this is…it's huge. So get here. Now," he said and hung up. Bridget slid her phone back into her pocket.

"I guess we're going to the Roadhouse. Come on," she said and got back into the Impala. Bobby followed behind them.

"We'll find him, Dean," she told him.

"How do you know that?" Dean asked. "We got no leads, no witness, nothing."

"Because I know we will," she told him.

"I wish I was as confident as you," he said with a shake of his head. "He's the only blood I got left, Bridge. I can't lose him too."

She reached over and took his hand. "Listen to me, we will get Sam back. This isn't the end."

He squeezed her hand feeling more relaxed with her there. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being here."

She smiled softly. "There's no where else I'd rather be."

Three things happened at once. Dean squeezed her hand tighter, her necklace flared against her skin and he muttered. "What the hell?" Bridget looked up as the car came to a halt to see the Roadhouse. Her mouth fell open as she got out of the car staring in dismay. It was burnt to the ground.

"Oh my God," Bobby said next to her. She hadn't even heard him come to her side.

Bridget hurried through the rubble, starting at one end while Bobby and Dean took other ends.

"Any signs of Ellen?" Bobby asked.

"No, no Ash either," Dean said.

Bridget frowned as she saw Ash's watch and bent down to pick it up, but found it was still attached to his arm. She dropped the very burnt arm and put a hand to her mouth. "Oh God, Ash."

Dean was next to her, turning her away and she buried her face in his shoulder. She held back the tears and shook her head. "Dammit! What is going on, Dean?"

"I don't know," he said.

"Whatever he had to tell you, something didn't want you both to find out," Bobby said, looking down at the remains. "This is…"

Dean shook his head, "What the hell did Ash know? We've got no way of knowing where Ellen is. Or if she's even alive. We've got no clue what Ash was gonna tell us. Now, how the hell are we gonna find Sam?"

"We'll find Sam," Bridget repeated, turning away from the charred body.

Dean doubled over in pain suddenly, clutching his head, face scrunched up. "Dean!" Bridget shouted and touched his shoulder. "Dean…" he relaxed, blinking a few times in confusion. "What the hell just happened?"

"I don't know. A bad headache," Dean said trying to compose himself.

"You get headaches like that a lot?" Bobby asked.

"No, must be stress," Dean said with a frown. "Could have sworn I saw something."

It was Bridget's turn to frown, "What do you mean? Like a vision? Like what Sam gets?"

"What?"

"I'm just saying this could be what we're looking for," she said to him.

"I'm not psychic," Dean shook his head and suddenly grimaced in pain falling to his knees. Bridget was quick to grab his shoulders and hit the dirt with him as the headache split through him. This time he was sure of the images. The headache subsided and he could hear Bridget saying his name, feel her hands on his shoulders.

"Dean? Dean, what was it? You ok?"

He nodded, gasping. "Yeah.. I think so. I saw Sam. I saw him."

"It was a vision," Bobby said.

"Yeah," he said as Bridget helped him stand, one hand still on his head. "I don't know how, but... but yeah. That was about as fun as getting kicked in the jewels."

"What else did you see?" Bridget asked as he leaned against the hood. Her hand stayed on his shoulder.

He rubbed his eyes. "There was a bell."

"What kind of bell?" Bobby asked.

He frowned. "Uhh.. Like a big-big uh, big bell. With uh.. some kind of engraving on it, I don't know."

"Engraving?"

"Yeah…"

"Was it a tree…like an oak tree?" Bridget asked suddenly.

Dean looked up at her. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

Bridget leaned into the car, pulling her sketch book out and turning to a drawing dated a week before. "Like this?"

Dean looked it over with a nod. "Exactly."

Bobby glanced over his shoulder at it. "I know where Sam is." That got both their attention.

"Where Bobby?" Bridget asked.

* * *

The Impala pulled to a stop in front of the Old Oak. The trail was blocked by fallen trees and no way to maneuver the car around it. With a deep sigh Dean shut off the car. "Looks like the rest of the way is by foot."

"Oh good traveling by foot in the dark where who knows what is lurking," Bridget snorted and got out of the back seat.

Dean handed Bridget a gun and Bobby loaded his own. "Let's go…"

The trail into town wasn't long but it seemed deserted to Bridget.

"Something's not right," Dean said as they walked.

"Dean," Bobby pointed ahead and they both saw Sam in a fight with a man in military uniform. Sam had the upper hand, crowbar raised above his head ready to strike.

"SAM!" Dean yelled to stop him as the three ran closer.

He stopped and turned, "Dean? Bridget?"

"We're here," she called out as the rain started and the thunder boomed in the night sky.

Bridget's necklace suddenly flared and grew hot against her. She gasped suddenly as she saw why. The man n the ground was getting up, knife in hand. Dean saw it as well.

"SAM! LOOK OUT!" Dean yelled running towards his brother.

Sam never saw it coming. A small look of confusion crossed the smile he had before a look of complete shock hit him as the knife plunged into his back.

"SAM!" Bridget screamed watching the knife into his back and twist, watching as Sam fell to his knees in shock and pain. "NO!"

She was running then, after Jake, past Sam where Dean stopped to catch his brother, running faster than Bobby to catch up with the other but he was too far ahead. She paused, taking aim with her gun and pulled the trigger. He staggered, clutching his shoulder but kept running. She couldn't catch up with him if she tried and she was needed elsewhere. She turned around, hurrying back to Sam, and froze when she saw Dean hugging Sam to him, tears in his eyes and the large blood stain on Sam's back. She fell to her knees in the mud, he was gone…Sam was gone, just like that.


	31. S2 All Hell part 2

A/N: Last episode and the conclusion. I own nothing.

**S2 EP23 ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE 2**

Bridget had felt this cold and lifeless once in her life. That heavy feeling of nothingness that seemed to linger in every inch of her being. The void in the pit of her soul that burnt with a cold fire, ripping at her very core. With all of that she felt nothing, like an empty vessel. As lifeless as Sam Winchester's body that lay on the mattress the room she sat in with Dean, neither saying anything to the other as they stared at his body as if willing him to live. If she hadn't known about the fatal stab wound in his back she'd have mistaken him for sleeping. But they both knew he wasn't. They both knew Sam would never wake up again.

A knock on the door and Bobby walking in broke the record breaking silence between the two. He set a bucket of chicken on the table in the room, "Brought you guys some dinner."

She gave him a weak smile that felt out of place on her face and must have looked it since Bobby shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away from her with a twitch of his mouth.

"No thanks," Dean replied in a monotone. "Not hungry."

Bridget felt she would have made a joke but couldn't find that light part in her that let her do that. "Neither am I," she managed though it sounded thick to her.

"You guys should eat something," Bobby said.

"I said I'm fine," Dean growled.

Bobby sighed. "I hate to bring this up…but we should…we should bury Sam."

"No," Dean said gruffily.

"We could…" he trailed off and Bridget knew what was coming.

"What?" Dean spun towards him. "Burn him," he shook his head looking back at Sam. "Not yet."

"Come with me. Both of you," Bobby pleaded.

Bridget turned her head to see the concerned look on Bobby's face. One she could remember her own father getting in the past when he was worried about her for some unknown reason.

"No, I'm not going anywhere," Dean replied.

"Please," he begged.

"Cut me some slack," Dean growled.

"I could use your guys help," Bobby explained.

"With what?" Bridget asked.

"Something's going on. Something big. End of the world big."

"Then let it end!" Dean screamed, causing Bridget to jump and stare at him wide eyed.

"Dean…" Bridget said his name carefully.

"You don't mean that," Bobby shook his head.

"You don't think so? Huh? You don't think I've given enough? You don't think I've paid enough? You don't think me and Bridget have lost enough? I'm done with it. All of it. And if you know what's good for you, turn around, and get the hell out of here," he growled.

Bobby had tears in his eyes and Dean calmed down. "I'm sorry…just go," he turned to Bridget. "Go with him, Bridge."

She shook her head and reached for his hand. Dean jerked away from her staring at the floor, tears in his eyes. "Please, Bridge. Not now. Just go with Bobby. Please…I'll meet you there."

She bit her lower lip and nodded. "Call me, Dean…and don't be long." She turned to leave but paused and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. "Don't do anything stupid. You're all I have left. I need you, Dean."

She kissed his cheek and with one last look at Sam she left with Bobby praying for her brother and Will to watch out for Dean while she wasn't there.

* * *

"Half vanilla creamer just the way you like it," Bobby set a cup of coffee down in front of her. She felt bad for hardly speaking at all in the truck to him but with Sam dead and now Dean alone to his thoughts she was worried. She twisted the ring back and forth on her necklace staring at the cup.

"You tryin' to get the spoon to spin in the cup," he teased.

She smiled a little and stared at the spoon, it slowly began to move around the cup.

"I'll be damned," Bobby snorted. "Here I was jokin'."

She stopped the spoon and took a drink. "I know."

"It'll be okay, Bridge…"

She stayed silent having nothing to add to that.

Bobby sighed. "I'm gonna go shower then I'll show you the stuff I got on what I was talkin' about. Help yourself to the food in the fridge."

She nodded her head and he patted her arm. She turned the pages of her regular drawing book, pausing at a drawing of Dean and wondering what he was up to. It had been over an hour and not a word from him. Her phone was silent and calling him would be pointless since she knew he wouldn't answer. She wished John were still around. He would have known what to do and she could almost bet he'd have been smarter than they were and have killed that son of a bitch before he got near Sam. He'd been good at that. Always one step ahead. It was what she admired about him and why she had been attracted to him to start.

She turned the pages and stopped at one of him with a rare smile that she had caught one day and sketched into eternity. No one but herself and John had even known about their brief romance. It wasn't even a romance as it was encounters that happened when she went hunting with him alone, Dean having been sent off on minor cases. It happened during a Wendigo case in the hotel room after they got back, both running on adrenaline. She was looking over plans on a desk and he came up behind her. She turned her head to tell him about the other lair she thought there was and her face came close to his. Then their instinct took over. It had only happened a few times and had stopped way before she met Sam. She winced inwardly at the thought of Sam as she turned the page to a drawing of him sleeping.

She traced it with her finger. It was after he had fallen asleep and she was still awake. He had looked so peaceful, so innocent as he was trapped looking forever now in death. Tears brimmed her eyes and she closed the book feeling suddenly cold.

Bridget stood up from the table and stepped out back, zombie like almost as the sunset in the distance. She rubbed at her arms, feeling cold though it was nowhere near chilly. But nothing could warm her no matter how many sweaters she wore or how many blankets she used. The cold was inside her, freezing her insides and leaving a void deeper than the one that had been there before. Sam had fixed what had been broken inside her, filled the emptiness she had for so long…and now he was gone, ripped away from her by that bastard. He was lying dead on a mattress…and she never forgave him, she never told him everything was okay between them…now it was too late.

Her anger boiled over and she yelled, kicking at the door of a broken old car with her foot as hard as she could before picking up a piece of metal from the ground and smashing the car with it until it snapped. She slammed her hand against the window breaking it and hitting it over and over with her feet and hands and the rest of the metal pipe until she stood there panting, hair in her face. She looked up at the sky.

"WHY!" she yelled to whoever was listening out there. "WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS? WHY!" she took a deep breath and felt it hitch in her chest from her tears. "You took EVERYONE! My parents, my brother, my nephew…you took Will…and John…and…and you took Sam! WHY!" The pole slipped from her fingers and she hung her head. "I hate you…" she whispered. "I HATE YOU!" She fell to her knees crying, a hand on her face, barely noticing her left one was bleeding from hitting the window.

She felt hands on her shoulders and looked up through her tears to see Bobby. He rubbed at her shoulder. "Come on, hun…let's get you inside. Fix that hand of yours…"

She nodded numbly, standing to her feet, Bobby kept his hand around her shoulders. She paused a minute and held a hand up to Bobby as she moved a few feet and bent over becoming sick between two other cars. Once she was done she wiped at her mouth and followed Bobby inside, sitting in a chair as Bobby took out his med kit.

He cleaned the wounds with peroxide and looked at them. "I think you're lucky, not a whole lotta stitches needed. The car seems to be in worse shape."

She knew he was joking but smiling seemed impossible. "Where's Dean?"

"I don't know…"

"Thanks…thanks for letting me come back here…"

"It'll be okay, Bridge…"

She shook her head, feeling the tears brim her eyes as Bobby finished wrapping her hand up. "I don't see how this could be okay…he's gone." She was crying then and Bobby moved his chair to sit next to her, putting an arm around her as she sobbed for the first time in a long time from true heart ache. He held her close and she leaned her head into his shoulder. "He was my family, he was my best friend and he's gone."

"I know, hun. I know…"

The two just sat there as the sky outside darkened and Bridget's necklace warmed around her neck. She had a feeling the worst wasn't over and her feelings were always right.

A few hours later a knock on the door proved her intuition was right. Bridget was in the living room with a beer in her hand staring at the television blankly not paying attention to anything that was on. It could be a blank screen for all she cared. Her necklace became warm for a second. She touched it wondering if she had imagined it or not. It wasn't warm now, just a regular ring. She frowned and stood, putting her beer on the table as she heard Bobby answer the door then heard Dean's voice. She peered around the corner and her mouth fell open. Sam stood there with Dean in perfect health. She rubbed at her eyes but he was still there and she knew she wasn't asleep. She tried to keep the shock from her face since she doubted Sam remembered being dead.

"Hey guys," Sam smiled stepping in. "Sorry we're late."

Bridget shared a look with Bobby then glanced at Dean who looked at her pleadingly. She was right. Sam had no idea. "Its ok…good to see you up and around."

"No kiddin'," Bobby mumbled.

"Yup, Sam's better so what have we got," Dean asked stepping into the living room where books and papers were piled on a desk.

"I found something," Bobby pushed some papers aside to show a map. "Just not sure what it means."

Sam frowned, "What is that?"

"Demonic omens...like a frickin' tidal wave. Cattle deaths. Lightening storms. They skyrocketed from out of nowhere. Here," Bobby pointed at a map. "All around here, except for one place...Southern Wyoming."

"Wyoming?" Dean frowned.

"Yeah. That one area's totally clean - spotless. It's almost as if..."

"As if what?" Sam asked. Bridget finished her beer in one big swallow unable to stand the fact Sam was alive and Dean was hiding it meaning he did something stupid.

"The demons are surrounding it."

"But you don't know why?"

"No, Bridget's looked at too."

"Yup and my head is swimming. Sam why don't you and Bobby look at it while I talk to Dean real quick and get another beer because I'm really needing one," Bridget offered with a smile.

"Yeah, good idea," Sam nodded already intrigued with the maps.

Bridget couldn't help slamming the door open as Dean followed her. She took a few steps running her hands through her hair before spinning around to confront him and shoving him. "You stupid asshole, what did you do?"

Dean staggered with the unsuspecting shove but caught himself. He said nothing.

That succeeded in making her angrier. "Dammit you made a deal. How long?" when he didn't reply she pushed him again. "How long Dean?"

"One year…"

Tears came to her eyes, "Oh my God…Dean…"

"Which is why we gotta find this yellow-eyed son of a bitch. That's why I'm gonna kill him myself. I got nothing to lose now, right?"

"You have everything to lose, moron! Your dad gave his life for you."

"That's my point. Dad brought me back, Bobby. I'm not even supposed to be here. At least this way, something good could come out of it, you know? It's like my life could mean something."

"Your life meant something to me. And your dad was supposed to do that, Dean, or I'd have ever drawn it…I didn't draw you doing this…don't you get it…he was supposed to die for you."

"I couldn't let him die, Bridge. I couldn't. He's my brother."

"And what about me and Sam now? Huh? You think we're gonna be able to keep everything together when you're gone, Dean? Do you!" she yelled furiously. "Jesus, did you even think at all? Your Dad gave up his life for you! Doesn't that mean anything to you? Do I mean anything?" she asked and realized the words that had come out of her mouth. She shook her head. "Guess it's too late to matter right? You made a deal with the devil and the rest of us have to live with the consequence after you're gone and I can tell you right now, it won't hold together." She walked off

"Bridget," he called after her and she the door as Bobby came out.

"That didn't go well," he mumbled.

"Did you think it would?" Bobby asked leaning in the doorway, having seen the whole scenario. "Are you that dense?"

"I thought she'd understand."

"Oh, she understands all right. She understands you're a moron and a selfish one at that," he said and Dean looked at him with a frown. "You know Sam will be pissed when he figures it out too. You're his brother, he's not gonna stand back and let 'em have you. He'll fight till it kills 'em, they both will. And, God forbid, if they can't get you out of this contract and you do die, they'll fall apart without you."

"They'll be fine, Bobby."

He shook his head, "You forget, I saw 'em after you were dyin' in the hospital a year ago. Sam was a wreck and Bridget was hanging by threads. If you'd have died then I can tell you those two wouldn't have lasted, least not together, they'd have separated. And Sam would be hell bent on getting; even, even if it killed him. And that same thing will happen a year from now if it goes the way the contract says. Sam will kill anything and everything and Bridget will turn into a cold hearted bitch or lose herself completely."

"She's too strong for that."

Bobby sighed, "You weren't here with her earlier. Sure, she was upset over Sam's death…but she clung to the thought that she had you because you're her best friend, Dean, and you're _really _dumb if you didn't know that."

"I'm gonna go talk to her real quick…"

"She's in the back…be careful. There's a lot of sharp blunt objects. She might kill you before it's your time."

Dean sighed and went into the backyard where she sat on the back of a pick up truck. He sat next to her with a sigh, "I should have told you…but you'd have stopped me."

"Damn right I would have…its been you and me for a long time. I could get used to that eve though I'd have missed Sam, but I had you…"

Dean brushed the hair from her face tucking it behind her ear. "I didn't mean to hurt you by doing this, Bridge, you know I never want to hurt you."

"Yeah, but you signing your life away is a pretty good way to leave a gash," she said.

"I had to save Sam…you know if you were able to do it for Derek you would…"

She nodded, "First thought, yeah I would…but I know Derek wouldn't have wanted me to if it meant I had to die in a year. He'd die with me, which is exactly what I think these demons are hoping because Sam cannot live without you and then I lose everything, Dean."

"It'll be okay."

She nodded wiping the tears from her eyes, "You bet your ass it will because I'm going to do everything in my power and beyond it to break this deal. I'll hone in these stupid gifts if I have to just to get the pictures to figure it out. I won't let them have you, I won't because I can't lose you," tears fell freely from her eyes. "I lost Will…that was enough."

Dean pulled her close and she buried her face in his shoulder. "It'll be okay…"

Bridget's necklace grew warm and they both felt it, freezing for a moment. "Bridge…there's someone in the junkyard…" Dean said quietly. Bridget slowly slid off the truck following close behind Dean as they snuck up on the intruder. Dean grabbed the person and spun them around. Both their eyes widened.

"Ellen!" Bridget gasped and hugged her. "Oh my God."

"Never thought I'd be happy to see a Winchester," She smiled shakily at Dean.

They let her inside where she sat at the table and Bobby poured her a shot of Holy Water.

"Is this necessary?" she asked dully.

"Just holy water, shouldn't hurt," he reminded her.

She sighed and downed it with no problem. "Can I get whiskey now, please?"

"Ellen, what happened? How'd you get out?" Bridget asked. The place had been burnt to the ground with no signs of life.

"I wasn't supposed to. I was supposed to be in there with everybody else," she shook her head. "But we ran out of pretzels, of all things. It was just dumb luck," she took a gulp of her whiskey. "Anyway, that's when Ash called. Panic in his voice. He told me to look in the safe. Then the call cut out. By the time I got back, the flames were sky-high. And everybody was dead. I couldn't have been gone more than fifteen minutes." Tears filled her eyes. "A lot of good people died in there. And I lived. Lucky me…"

"You mentioned a safe?" Bobby questioned.

"A hidden safe we keep in the basement," she pulled out a map with several x's and lines across it.

"Wyoming. What does that mean?" Dean asked.

"I think I got an idea," Bobby said and grabbed a large book flipping through the pages. "I don't believe it."

"What? You got something?" Sam asked.

"A lot more than that. Each of these x's is an abandoned frontier church- all mid 19th century. And all of them built by Samuel Colt," he pointed at the map.

"Samuel Colt-the demon-killing, gunmaking Samuel Colt?" Dean asked.

"Yep. And there's more. He built private railway lines," he pointed at the lines. "connecting church to church. It just happens to lay out like this." He drew them together making a star.

"Tell me that's not what I think it is?" Sam said.

"A Devil's Trap…"

"That's brilliant. Iron lines demons can't cross," Dean smiled.

Ellen shook her head, "I've never heard of anything that massive."

"And after all these years none of the lines are broken? I mean, it still works?"

"Definitely," Sam nodded.

"How do you know?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged, "All those omens Bobby found. I mean the demons, they must be circling and they can't get in."

"Yeah, but they're trying," Bobby said.

"Why?" Ellen asked. "What's inside?"

Dean held up his hand, "That's what I've been looking for. And, uh, there's nothing except an old cowboy cemetery right in the middle."

"Well what's so important about a cemetery or...what's Colt trying to protect?" Sam brought up.

"Well…unless…" Bridget pondered.

"Unless what?" Bobby asked.

"What if Colt wasn't trying to keep the demons out? What if he was trying to keep something in?"

Ellen exhaled loudly. "Well that's a comforting thought."

"Seriously," Dean mumbled.

"Could they do it, Bobby? Could they get inside?" Bridget asked.

"This thing's so powerful, you'd practically need an A-bomb to destroy it. No way a full-blood demon gets across."

"No…but I know who could," Sam said.

* * *

Going to the cemetery wasn't a bad idea. Though she pushed the thought that Sam should be buried in one and Dean would be in a year out of her head. They had a job to do and she wasn't disappointed as Jake walked into the cemetery. Bridget pointed her gun at him stepping out from behind the tomb she ducked behind.

"Hi there, Jake?" The boy stopped stunned. "Remember me? I'm the one that shot you in the arm?" she sighed as she saw his arm was fine. "Hmm…looks like I didn't do a good job." She removed the safety from her gun. "I should fix that."

"Bridget, be nice," Sam said stepping next to her from his spot.

"Do I have to?"

"Please…after all he didn't stab you so it's kinda not fair."

She pouted, "Fine."

Sam got a reaction out of Jake. "Wait...you were dead. I killed you."

"Next time do a better job," he said.

"I did! I cut clean through your spinal cord, man," Jake glanced at Dean. "You were dead."

"Calm down there, son," Bobby warned him.

"And if I don't."

"Wait and see," Sam smiled.

"What, you a tough guy all of a sudden? What are you gonna do-kill me?"

"It's a thought," he shrugged.

"You had your chance. You couldn't do it."

"I won't make that mistake twice," he shook his head.

Jake laughed and Bridget's necklace vibrated against her neck.

"What are you smiling at, you little bitch?" Dean asked.

He looked at Ellen. "Hey lady, put that gun to your head."

Unable to control herself Ellen did so and Jake grinned. "See that Ava girl was right. Once you give in to it, there's all sorts of new Jedi mind tricks you can learn."

"Let her go," Sam warned, gun pointed at him.

"You'll be mopping up skull before you get a shot off…everybody put your guns down."

They did so and Jake smiled taking the Colt out of his pocket. Dean and Bobby moved fast, knocking Ellen over before she could pull the trigger. At the same time, Sam shot Jake four times sending him to the ground.

Jake gasped as Sam stood over him and Bridget watched in cold disbelief. "Please...don't. Please." She jumped as Sam shot him twice more until he was dead.

The engravings on the large tomb suddenly began to spin. Bridget's ecklace vibrated harder whatever it was, it was bad.

"Oh no…" Bobby mumbled.

"What is it?"

"It's hell. Take cover!"

Dean grabbed the Colt and grabbed Bridget's hand pulling her down next to him and holding her close, covering her head. The wind blew hard as the doors burst open and lights shot out in every directions as demons were let loose. It calmed down and Dean looked over at Bobby. "What the hell just happened?"

"That's a devil's gate. A damn door to hell," Ellen said. "We gotta close it."

Dean pulled out the Colt, "If the demon gave this to Jake...then maybe..."

Yellow Eyes seemed to appear out f nowhere in front of them and the colt flew to his hand. Bridget and Dean got to their feet staring him down.

"Little boys shouldn't play with Daddy's gun," he smiled and splayed his other hand out. Dean went flying through the air crashing into a tombstone unconscious.

"Dean!" Bridget yelled as she saw the blood. Sam was first to move to him until he was pinned into a tree. Bridget stood there alone facing Yellow Eyes, her heart pounding in her throat unable to move.

"I'll get to you in a minute, Bridge," he promised her, paralyzing Dean where he lay, his attention on him. "Sit a spell. So, Dean...I got to thank you. You see, demons can't resurrect people unless a deal is made. I know, red tape-it'll make you nuts. But thanks to you, Sammy's back in rotation," he laughed. "Now, I wasn't counting on that, Bridget never fell for that for her brother or Will, and she still won't consider it because she knows better. She knows its unnatural, which is too bad. I'd have liked Derek on my side. Just like I liked Sam better than Jake, anyhow. Tell me-have you ever heard the expression, "If a deal sounds too good to be true, it probably is?"

"You call that a deal?" he asked.

"Well, it's a better shake than your dad ever got. And you never wondered why? I'm surprised at you. I mean...you saw what your brother just did to Jake, right? That was pretty cold, wasn't it, Bridge? I saw you were scared and shocked by it." He focused on her. "How certain are you that what Dean brought back, is 100% pure Sam? I mean you seem to be the smart one…it's why you never made a deal…you knew your brother and fiancé were better off dead…smart girl. Not so smart Dean though." He shook his head at Dean. "You of all people should know, that's what's dead, should stay dead. Anyway...thanks a bunch. I knew I kept you alive for some reason. Until now, anyway. I couldn't have done it without your pathetic, self-loathing, self-destructive desire to sacrifice yourself for your family."

Bridget's necklace pulsed against her, twice. She felt dizzy from it and noticed shapes forming behind Yellow Eyes. Two tall figures forming in a light. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw one form into John. He grabbed Yellow Eyes from behind and pulled the smokey form from the possessed body. It fell to the ground still holding the gun and Dean lunged for it, taking it from the dead hand just as the other form came into shape helping John out. Bridget couldn't breathe. It was Derek. He helped John throw the smoke demon back into the body. Yellow Eyes stood up in time for Dean to get a shot off, hitting him directly in the head. Electricity seemed to break from his dead eyes and mouth as he collapsed dead.

John smiled at the three of them touching his son's shoulders and nodding at Bridget. They all had tears in their eyes but Bridget's spilled over as Derek touched shoulder then ruffled her hair to get her to chuckle. He smiled at that then touched her necklace giving her a look. She nodded. "I know you're there…you're always there." He nodded his head and looked at Dean pointing at Bridget and gesturing with his other hand that he was watching him. He gave Dean a smile and just nodded at Sam with a semi grim look that Bridget didn't understand but his last smile at her was genuine. The two stepped back, giving each other a fist bump and disappeared into a bright light.

"Where do you think they went?" Dean asked.

"A better place…" she smiled. "A much better place…"

"Think we'll see them again?" Sam asked.

She shrugged and touched her necklace knowing Derek would always be there. "Maybe…"

Dean stood over the demons body. "Well, check that off the to-do list."

"You did it," Bridget patted him on the back.

"Not alone."

"Do you think Dad really...do you think he really climbed outta hell?" Sam asked.

"The door was open...but Derek was never there," Dean looked at Bridget.

"No…Derek came for John. He came to take John with him."

They nodded accepting that. "I kind of can't believe it, Dean. I mean...our whole lives, everything...has been prepping for this, and now I..." Sam chuckled. "I don't know what to say."

"I do," Dean leaned closer to the body. "That was for our mom...you son of a bitch."

"Let's get to the car," Bridget sighed and started walking.

"You know, when Jake saw me...it was like he saw a ghost," Sam said as they neared the Impala. "I mean, hell, you heard guys heard him. He said he killed me."

"I'm glad he was wrong," Dean said. Bridget just pressed her lips tightly together.

"I don't think he was, Dean. What happened...after I was stabbed?"

"I already told you."

"Not everything," Sam said.

"Sam, we just killed the demon. Can we celebrate for a minute?"

"Did I die?"

"Oh come on!"

"Did you sell your soul like dad did?"

"No!"

"Dean," Bridget said sternly grabbing his arm. "Tell him the truth."

Sam had tears in his eyes. "How long, Dean?"

"One year," he sighed. "I got a year."

"You shouldn't have done that. How could you do that?"

"Don't get mad at me. Don't you do that. I had to. I had to look out for you. That's my job."

"And what do you think my job is?"

"What?" Dean asked.

"You've saved my life over and over. I mean, you sacrifice everything for me. Don't you think I'd do the same for you? You're my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. And I don't care what it takes, I'm gonna get you out of this. Guess I gotta save your ass for a change."

"Don't count me out of it. I haven't saved his ass in awhile…not since prison," Bridget joked.

Ellen approached them at the Impala. "Well...Yellow Eyed Demon might be dead. But a lot more got through that gate"

"How many, you think?" Dean asked.

"Hundred. Maybe two hundred. It's an army. He's unleashed an army," Bridget guessed.

"Hope to hell you kids are ready. 'Cause the war has just begun," Bobby told them.

"Well then," Dean smiled throwing the Colt inside the trunk with a smile. "We got work to do."

END OF SEASON 2

Questions? Comments? Suggestions? Leave 'em and I'll answer 'em


	32. S3 Magnificent Seven

**A/N: Sorry it took so long. School started and I work on top of it. **

* * *

**S3 EP 32 Magnificent 7**

Bridget sighed heavily stretched out in the back seat sketching in her drawing pad. It was a drawing of Sam losing his shoe. She had no idea what that meant or why she drew it but with her luck she'd eventually find out and it was better than the fairy tale kick she'd been on the last few weeks. Sam currently resided in the front seat reading another book on how to free Dean which was getting him no where no matter how much he obsessed on it. It didn't stop him from trying though. As for Dean…Bridget glanced out the windshield and saw Dean inside the hotel room with his shirt off. He moved to the window and flashed her a thumbs up with a huge grin then shut the curtains as the blonde walked into sight. She shook her head. Dean was enjoying his life, she gave him that and at least she and Sam were getting along after his death and resurrection put everything into perspective.

Her cell buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out, pressing talk. "Hey Bobby."

"Hey Bridget. What you up to?"

"Drawing as usual. Nothing useful yet, but who knows."

"Is Sam still reading that book?"

She glanced at Sam in the front, nose buried deep in the book. "Yup."

"Its not gonna help any."

"I know," she sighed.

"Where's Dean?"

She pursued her lips. "Livin' it up."

"What?"

"Nothing…"

"Well pack it up and get here. I found something."

"Will do. See you soon," she hung up and put her drawing pad down. "Time to go on a dangerous mission."

"What?" Sam asked closing the book.

"Going in there and getting Dean.

Sam winced. "You sure there's no Wendigo?"

"Sorry buddy, we gotta go in there."

He grimaced and opened the door, hanging his head down.

"You think I wanna go in there," she snorted as they approached the door.

"The devil wouldn't want in there," he mumbled and stared at it.

She nudged him. "Well go ahead and knock."

"You do it?"

"He's your brother."

Sam looked at her and sighed. "Dammit…" he knocked slightly. "Dean…" he twisted the knob and opened the door slowly peaking around the corner. Bridget made sure to stay behind him. She didn't want to see what was on the other side. "Dean… Dean, you - you conscious? Bobby called, and he thinks that maybe we…"

She saw Sam's eyes widen in horror, the catching your brother in the middle of something freaky horror. She stepped back before she could see anything as Sam hurriedly shut the door leaning on the wall.

"Do I even want to know?" she asked.

Sam shook his head furiously, "No…no you don't. I'm gonna go sit I the car."

Bridget couldn't help the laughter that came out of her. His reaction was priceless and she was glad it wasn't her. She'd caught enough people having sex and she didn't need to see Dean only because she wasn't sure how she'd feel about it because under the disgust was a thought of hurt and that bothered her most.

* * *

Twenty minutes and a clothed Dean later they were driving on the highway. Sam was silent for the first five minutes until he turned to Dean, holding his hand out. "Give me your knife."

"Why?"

"So I can gauge my eyes out," he said seriously.

"It was a beautiful , natural act Sam," Dean said.

Bridget snorted, "I doubt that."

"How would you know? You've never taken your chance."

"Dean, I was your roommate for years. I can hear you through walls. Nothing natural about it."

"And its part of you I never wanted to see," Sam said.

Dean patted Sam's leg. "Hey, I appreciate you guys giving me a little quality time with the Doublemint Twins."

"No problem," Sam mumbled.

Dean seemed shocked, "Really? Well, I got to say, I was expecting a weary sigh or an eye roll, something."

"No, you deserve to have fun," Sam mumbled again.

"I'm in agreement with you there," he looked in the review mirror at a solemn looking Bridget. "What does Bobby got?" he asked ignoring her look for now.

"Not much. Crop failure and a cicada swarm outside of Lincoln, Nebraska. Could be demonic omens," she perked up again.

"Or could just be a bad crop and a bug problem," he said.

"Yeah, but it's all we got unless you want to go chasing down the fairytales I've been drawing."

"Mmm…love me some Aurora."

Bridget rolled her eyes, "Stay on the case please."

"Fine… Any freaky deaths?"

"No, nothing Bobby could find - not yet, anyway. You know how these things turn up when we get there," she reminded him.

"True. It's just weird. I mean, the night the devil's gate opened, all these weirdo storm clouds were sighted over how many cities?"

"Seventeen," Sam filled in.

"Seventeen. You think it would be "Apocalypse Now," but it's been five days and bubkis," Dean shrugged and shook his head. "What are they waiting for?"

"Beats me," Sam shrugged.

Dean sighed agitated. "It's driving me crazy. I tell you, if it's gonna be war, I wish it would just start already."

"Be careful what you wish for," Sam said.

They drove the rest of the way there playing car games at Dean's request until Bridget could no longer stand playing I Spy on an empty road with the answers being dirt, sky and twice Dean tried for Bridget's chest as an answer and was rewarded with a smack to his head. They finally arrived at a farm in the town in the morning after taking turns napping in the back seat. Bridget slurped on the soda at the only drive through in town they could find as Dean munched on a burger. She frowned as she heard cicadas in the trees.

"You hear that?" she asked the two.

"Yeah…cicadas," Sam nodded.

"That can't be good," Dean said.

Bobby stepped out of his truck. "So, we're eating bacon cheeseburgers for breakfast, are we?"

"Who cares about cholesterol? I sold my soul. I got a year," Dean shrugged.

"So, Bobby, what do you think? We got a biblical plague here or what?" Sam changed subjects quickly.

"Well, let's find out. Looks like the swarm's ground zero."

Bridget sighed as they approached the locked farmhouse. This was already looking like it was going to be bad. Dean picked the lock and walked in first, guns drawn. Bridget went behind Sam and was immediately hit by the rotting smell. Her eyes watered and she gagged covering her nose.

"Oh my God, that's awful," she said.

"This so can't be a good sign," Dean said, scrunching his face at the stench in the house.

Guns up they checked each room, approaching the sound of a TV on behind a closed door. Dean glanced at Sam who nodded then looked at Bridget who gave him a thumbs up, taking the release off her gun. Dean kicked the door open and the smell hit them instantly. Three rotting bodies sat on the couch in front of a TV.

"Oh my God," Bridget said at the sight, hand over her mouth from both the shock and smell.

"Bobby, what the hell happened here?" Sam asked the older man.

"I don't know," he said just as stunned.

"Check for sulfur," Dean suggested.

Before they could there was a noise from out front. Dean signaled Bridget to follow him and for Bobby and Sam to follow around. They nodded and Bridget followed behind Dean to the front of the house. She was stunned as Dean was knocked to the ground by a man with a shot gun. Bridget pointed her gun at the woman with him. "Touch him again and I'll shoot her in the head," Bridget warned.

The man glanced up at her, gun pointed at Dean just as Bobby came around the side. "Tamara? Isaac?" he said.

"Bobby? What the hell you doing here?" he asked with an accent.

"I could ask the same," he smiled.

"How you doin', Bobby?"

"Uh, can I get up," Dean said from the floor.

"Yeah, sorry about that," he helped Dean up and Bridget warily lowered her gun.

"Care to explain, Bobby?" she asked.

"Sure, but lets do this some place more private with less dead people in the house," he suggested.

"Our place isn't far. Follow us," Tamara led the way. With curious glances, Dean, Sam, and Bridget got back into the Impala following the hunters.

* * *

Large shelves lined with jars of things most of which Bridget couldn't even pronounce filled the house of Tamara and Isaac. Dean was on the phone in the other room trying to get information from the corner's assistant by any means he could which usually meant he was flirting. Sam and her kept looking around the shelves at all the items.

"Honey? Where's the Palo Santo?" Isaac asked his wife.

"Well, where'd you leave it?" she asked bluntly.

"If I knew that I wouldn't be asking."

"Palo Santo?" Sam repeated with a frown.

"It's holy wood, from Peru. It's toxic to demons like holy water. Keeps the bastards nailed down while you're exorcising them," Tamara explained as she reached into a bag and pulled out a large stake handing it to her husband.

"Thank you, dear."

"How long you two been married?" Bridget asked, inspecting a jar she pulled off the shelf.

"Eight years since June," she said lovingly.

"The family that slays together…" Isaac smiled.

"Right. Got you there. So how'd you two get started," Sam asked and the two froze.

Bridget put the jar down in the awkward silence, lips pressed tightly together as Sam apologized. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean …its none of my business."

"It's all right," Tamara said with a sad smile.

Dean came back into the room then breaking the awkwardness. "That was the corner's tech on the phone. Get this - that whole family, cause of death? Dehydration and starvation. There's no signs of restraint, no violence, no struggle. They just sat down and never got up."

"But there was a fully stocked kitchen just yards away," Bobby pointed out.

"What is this, a demon attack?" Bridget asked.

Bobby shook his head, "If it is, it's not like anything I ever saw, and I've seen plenty."

"Well, what now? What should we do?" Dean asked.

Isaac lifted his eyebrows, "Uh, _we're_ not gonna do anything."

"What do you mean?" Dean frowned.

"You guys seem nice enough, but this ain't "scooby-doo," and we don't play well with others."

"Well, I think we'd cover a lot more ground if we all worked together," Bridget said, offended by his statement.

"No offense, but we're not teaming with the damn fools who let the Devil's Gate get opened in the first place."

Dean got upset, "No offense?"

Tamara scolded, "Isaac. Like you've never made a mistake."

He nodded, "Oh yeah, yeah. Locked my keys in the car, turned my laundry pink. Never brought on the end of the world, though."

"That's enough," Bridget said.

"Guys this isn't helping," Sam interjected.

Isaac wasn't finished, "Look, there are couple hundred more demons out there now. We don't know where they are, when they'll strike. There ain't enough hunters in the world to handle something like this. You brought war down on us - on all of us."

Tamara grabbed his arm and pulled him away and out of the room, "Okay. That's quite enough testosterone for now."

"So what do we do?" Bridget asked the boys.

"We work on our own," Dean shrugged. "Something's bound to come up."

* * *

It didn't take long for something to come up Bridget noticed as they stood outside the police tape staring at the department store. "We got anything?" she asked Sam.

"Not yet, trying to figure out a way we can get in."

"We don't have any…" Bridget drifted off as she saw Bobby approaching them from insider the shop. He was wearing a suit with his hair slicked back. She let out a whistle. "Nice, Bobby. What were you, a g-man?"

"District Attorney."

"What you get there 007?" Dean asked.

"Was she possessed?" Sam asked.

"Don't think so. There's none of the usual signs - no blackouts, no loss of control. Totally lucid. Just, she really wanted those shoes. Spilled a glass of holy water on her just to be sure; nothing."

Dean shrugged, "Maybe she's just some random whack job."

"If it had been an isolated incident, maybe, but first the family, now this? I believe in a lot of things. Coincidence ain't one of them. Did you guys find anything around here?"

Sam shook his head, "No sulfur, nothing."

Bridget pointed at the camera, "Well, maybe something."

With a little help from Bobby as a DA they were able to watch the security tape. Bridget rewound it back then paused when the suspect came in. A redheaded man approached her whispering something and seconds later the blonde attacked the other woman. "Looks like we got our guy."

"We should stake out the local bar," Dean suggested. "I bet he'll show up."

The stakeout wasn't what Bridget had in mind being cramped up in the backseat of Bobby's car with her drawing pad in her lap, back to drawing fairytales. At least this time she was drawing a ball scene with a girl in a beautiful dress and a man in a nice crisp tuxedo. These were things she could get used to, not her legs aching from not being stretched.

"What time is it?" Bobby asked.

"Past midnight," Dean sighed.

"You sure this is the right place?" Bridget questioned.

"No. But I spent all day canvassing this stupid town with this guy's stupid mug, and, supposedly, he drinks at this stupid bar."

A loud bang came from the other window causing them to jump. Sam opened the back door with a grin and scooted in next to Bridget.

"Not funny!" Dean said.

"I thought it was hilarious," Sam sighed. "So, John Doe's name is Walter Rosen. He's from Oak Park, just west of Chicago. Went missing about a week ago."

"The night the Devil's Gate opened?" Bridget pieced together.

He nodded, "Yeah."

"So you think he's possessed?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders, "It's a good bet. So, what, he just walks up to someone, touches them, and they go stark raving psycho?"

"Those demons that got out at the gate - they're gonna do all kinds of things we haven't seen," Bobby told him.

"You mean the demons we let out?" Bridget corrected.

Dean gestured out the windshield, "Hey guys."

They all turned to look and see the redheaded man get out of a car and walk into the bar. Dean moved his hand to open the door. "All right. Showtime."

"Wait," Bridget touched his shoulder.

"What?"

"We don't know what to expect out of this guy. We should tail him till we know for sure," Bobby agreed with Bridget.

"Oh, so he kills someone and we just sit here with our junk in our hands?" he argued.

"We're no good dead! And we're not gonna make a move until we know what the score is," he shot back.

Bridget's eyes widened slightly as she continued looking out the windshield, "Hey, Bobby, I don't think that's an option."

"Why not?"

Bridget pointed out the window and they followed to see Isaac and Tamara walking into the bar.

"Dammit!" Bobby swore.

"What do we do?" Sam asked.

"We got to stop them obviously," Dean said.

"How? We can't go in there guns blazing," Bridget said.

Bobby started his car. "There is one way. Hold on." He pushed his foot down on the gas and Bridget braced herself as they hurtled straight towards the bar. It crashed through the wall and they hopped out in the mix of confusion. Bridget went straight for Tamara who was crouched over Isaac's dead body. She could see the blood and foam bubbling from his mouth and knew he was dead. "Come on, Tamara. Let him go, he's dead. Come on." She got Tamara into the back seat and yelled at Dean who was overpowering the red head and managed to get him in the trunk, trapping him in with the Devil's Trap.

* * *

They managed to get the red head tied to a chair under a Devil's Trap why they argued with a hysterical Tamara in the other room.

"I say we're going back!"

"Hold on," Bridget told her.

"I left my husband on the floor."

"I understand that, but we can't go back," Bridget said calmly.

"Fine. Then you stay. But I'm heading back to that bar."

"I'll go with her," Dean volunteered.

"It's suicide," Sam argued.

"So what? I'm dead already!"

"How you gonna kill 'em? Can't shoot 'em. You can't stab 'em. They're not just gonna wait in line to get exorcised!"

"I don't care!" Tamara yelled.

"We don't even know how many of them there are!" Bridget argued back.

Bobby came back into the room, "Yeah, we do. There's seven. Do you have any idea who we're up against?"

"No. Who?"

"The seven deadly sins, live and in the flesh."

It was silent for a moment until Dean broke it, "What's in the box?" Bridget rolled her eyes. "Brad pitt? "Se7en"? No?"

Bobby tossed him a book.

"What's this?"

""Binsfeld's classification of demons." In 1589, Binsfeld ID'd the seven sins - not just as human vices but as actual devils."

"The family - they were touched by Sloth. And the shopper...," Sam figured.

"That would be Envy," Bridget filled in.

"I don't give a rat's ass if they're the Three Stooges or the Four Tops! I'm gonna slaughter every last one of them!" Tamara yelled.

Bobby yelled back, "We already did it your way. You burst in there half-cocked and look what happened! These demons haven't been topside in half a millennium! We're talking medieval, dark ages! We've never faced anything close to this! So we are gonna take a breath... And figure out what our next move is…I'm sorry about Isaac."

Envy chuckled in the chair, "So you know who I am, huh?"

"We do. We're not impressed," Bobby said.

"Why are you here? What are you after?" Bridget asked.

"We already have what we want."

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"We're out. We're free. Thanks to you, my kind are everywhere. I am legion, for we are many. So me, I'm just celebrating. Having a little fun."

"Fun?" Sam repeated.

"Yeah. Fun. See, some people crochet. Others golf. Me? I like to see people's insides... on their outside."

"I'm gonna put you down like a dog," Tamara growled.

"Please," he laughed. "You really think you're better than me. Which one of you can cast the first stone, huh? What about you, Dean? You're practically a walking billboard of gluttony and lust. And Tamara. All that wrath. Ooh. tsk,tsk,tsk. It's the reason you and Isaac became hunters in the first place, isn't it? It's so much easier to drink in the rage than to face what really happened all those years ago."

Tamara's face twisted in rage and she hit him in the face. Dean pulled her back and Envy laughed even with the blood dripping down his chin. "Aah! Whew! My point exactly. And you call us sins. We're not sins, man. We are natural human instinct. And you can repress and deny us all you want, but the truth is, you are just animals. Horny... greedy... hungry...violent animals. And you know what? You'll be slaughtered like animals, too. The others - they're coming for me."

"Maybe. But they're not gonna find you... 'cause you'll be in hell. Someone send this clown packing," Dean said.

"My pleasure," Tamara smiled and began reading the book. Envy began screaming and the others left the room.

Bobby sighed, "I don't think we're gonna have to worry about hunting them."

"What does that mean?"

"I think maybe this joker's right. They're gonna be hunting us. And they're not gonna quit easy," he said.

"You guys, why don't you take Tamara and head for the hills? I'll stay back, slow them down, buy you a little time," Dean suggested.

"You're insane, Dean. Just forget about it, okay?" Bridget told him.

"Bridget's right," Sam agreed.

"There's six of them, guys. We're outmanned, we're outgunned. We'll be dead by dawn," Dean explained.

"Maybe, but there's no place to run that they won't find us."

"Look, if we're going down, we're going down together, all right?" Sam suggested.

"Then let's not make it easy for them."

Tamara came into the room, dropping the book on the table. "Demon's out and in hell."

"And the guy."

"He didn't make it," she said coldly.

"Well… we better get started."

Bridget was busy filling flasks with holy water while Dean loaded shot guns. Bobby had the book open to the pages they needed and Tamara sat silently. The lights began to flicker and the radio came on in the corner. Bridget felt her necklace vibrate against her. "They're here."

Dean cocked his gun, "Here we go."

Outside they could hear Isaac's cries, "Tamara! Tamara! Tamara! Tamara! Help me! Please!"

Bobby looked at Tamara who was fighting with herself. "It's not him. It's one of those demons. It's possessing his corpse."

He began pounding on the door, "Baby! Why won't you let me in? You left me behind back there. How could you do that? We swore... At that lake in Michigan. Remember? We swore we would never leave each other!"

Tears streamed down her face, "How does he know that?"

"Steady, Tamara," Bridget told her.

"You just gonna leave me out here? You just gonna let me die? I guess that's what you do, dear! Like that night those things came to our house... came for our daughter! You just let her die, too," his voice was more cynical now.

"You son of a bitch!" she cried out heading for the door.

"Tamara, no!" Bobby yelled.

She ran through the open door and tackled Isaac down the stairs with the Palo stake in hand. "You're not Isaac," she screamed at him and plunged it into his chest.

The others came up the stairs and into the house. The four split up and Bridget ran up the stairs with a demon in a suit following her. She ran into a bedroom, turning to face the doorway as he entered. "Bridget…good to see you," he said.

She smiled, "Wish I could say the same.

He grinned back at seeing the trap. "Really? You think something like that can stop me, I mean really me." It cracked suddenly across the roof.

Bridget sighed, "Oh shit. I get Pride."

He hit her and she hit the wall, shaking the fog from her head, rolling out of the way as he moved to hit her again. She backed up into the wall as he slowly stalked towards her, "No where to go, nowhere to run."

Bridget touched her necklace. "Who said I need to run?" it responded to her touch and began glowing brighter.

"What the?" the demon said confused as a beam of light shot out and hit it square in the chest. Electricity wrapped around its body as it screamed and a dark foam flew from its mouth and disappeared into the ground, back to hell.

Bridget panted from the effort and energy it took to perform the newly acquired skill. She slid down the wall sitting on the floor. Dean entered the room a moment later and kneeled next to her, moving the hair from her face. "Hey, you okay?"

"Better than him," she gestured at Pride and his dead carrier.

"Come on," he helped her up and they moved back downstairs.

They dug a trench and put the bodies of the people that didn't survive into it, lighting it on fire to dispose of them. Several yards away Tamara was standing into front of a pyre with Isaac's body burning upon it.

"Think she'll be okay?" Bridget asked.

"No. Definitely not," Dean shook his head.

Bobby joined them with dark circles under his eyes. Dean smiled, "Well, you look like hell warmed over."

"You try exorcising all night and see how you feel."

"Any survivors?" She asked.

"Well, the pretty girl and the heavy guy, they'll make it. Lifetime of therapy bills ahead, but, still…"

"That's more than you can say for these poor bastards," she gestured.

"Bobby, that knife - what kind of blade can kill a demon?" Sam asked about the mystery girl he had seen.

"Yesterday, I would have said there was no such thing."

"I'm just gonna ask it again - who was that masked chick? Actually, the more troubling question would be, "how come a girl can fight better than you?" Dean asked.

"Two demons, Dean. At once."

"I have a more troubling question," Bridget said.

"What?"

"If we let out the seven deadly sins, what else did we let out?"

Dean winced, "You're right. That is troubling."

They packed up their car and prepared to leave, saying goodbye to Tamara.

"See you gents around." She said.

Bobby gave her a hug, "Tamara? The world just got a lot scarier. Be careful."

"You, too."

Bobby looked at the three, "Keep your eyes peeled for omens. I'll do the same."

"You got it."

"Wait, Bobby. We can win this war, right?" Sam asked.

"Catch you on the next one," he said instead, walking away.

Dean sighed and patted the top of the Impala. "So, where to?"

"Uh, I don't know. I was thinking Louisiana maybe."

"Little early for Mardi Gras, isn't it?"

Sam nodded, "Yeah. Listen, I was talking to Tamara, and she mentioned this hoodoo priestess outside of Shreveport that might be able to help us out. You know, with your - with your demon deal."

"No," Dean shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Sam, no hoodoo spell's gonna break this deal. It's a goose chase."

"We don't know that."

"Yes, we do. Forget it. She can't help. We're not going, and that's that. What about Reno, huh?"

Bridget inspected her nails, it was about to get ugly and she'd been waiting a week for Sam to blow up. He delivered like she thought he would.

"You know what? I've had it. I've been bending over backwards trying to be nice to you, and...I don't care anymore."

"That didn't last long," Dean sighed.

"Yeah, well, you know what? I've been busting my ass trying to keep you alive, Dean, and you act like you couldn't care less. What, you got some kind of death wish or something?"

"It's not like that."

"Then what's it like, Dean?"

"We trap the crossroads demon, trick it, try to welch our way out of the deal in any way? You die. Okay? You die. Those are the terms. There's no way out of it. If you try to find a way, so help me god, I'm gonna stop you."

"How could you make that deal, Dean? So, what, now I live and you die?"

"That's the general idea, yeah."

"Yeah, well, you're a hypocrite, Dean. How did you feel when dad sold his soul for you? 'Cause I was there. I remember. You were twisted and broken. And now you go and do the same thing. To me. What you did was selfish."

"Sam…" Bridget interjected. "It's done. It's over. Let it go. Because you can either waste time and be angry or enjoy what you have left. You decide but quit the emo bullshit."

"Whatever. You're alive, I feel good - for the first time in a long time. I got a year to live, Sam. I'd like to make the most of it. So what do you say we kill some evil sons of bitches and we raise a little hell, huh?" Dean added.

"You're unbelievable," he rolled his eyes getting into the car.

"Very true," Dean grinned and they drove off to their next destination.


	33. S3 The Kid's Alright

A/N: Sorry! Mid term season plus 35 hours of work equals hardly any spare writing time. Hope to get more posted soon!

* * *

**S3 EP 33 THE KIDS ALL RIGHT**

One thing was becoming very clear to Bridget as she sat with her back against the wall in the restaurant and her legs drawn up so her sketch pad was resting on her bent knees. And that was the fact Sam was giving her a headache with his endless search to save Dean from his certain death. He was on the phone once more with Bobby as he frantically searched his laptop for some hoodoo spell to save his brother. Bridget wanted him saved to but she wasn't going to waste time spent with Dean on it, at least not yet.

She sat there listening to Sam argue with Bobby, a bored look upon her face as Dean started coming back from the bathroom. Sam frantically hung up.

"Hey. Who was that?" Dean asked, sliding in next to Bridget.

"I was just…ordering a pizza," he said frantically.

Bridget rolled her eyes. Dean pointed out the obvious. "Dude, we're in a restaurant."

Sam gave Bridget a pleading look. She rolled her eyes again. "Well you know Sam. He's weird with his food cravings and they don't serve pizza here."

Dean seemed to buy it and nodded. "So, I think I got something."

"Shouldn't you tell that to your doctor?" Bridget went on drawing.

"Ah ha, you're so funny," he dead panned and continued. "Cicero, Indiana. Falls on his own power saw."

Sam raised his eyebrows, "And? That, that's it? One power saw?"

"Well…yeah," he nodded.

"And you think that this is a case?" Bridget asked.

"Well, I don't know. Could be."

"I don't know, Dean," Sam shook his head shutting off his laptop.

"Okay, there's something better in Cicero than just a case."

"And that is…" Bridget said waiting for it.

"Lisa Braiden," Dean said.

Bridget snorted. "Ohh I've heard this story." Sam looked confused.

"Should I even ask?" he said to Bridget.

"Remember that road trip I took, uh... gosh, about eight years ago now? You were in Orlando with dad wrapping up that banshee thing."

"The five states, five days," Sam said.

"Well, kind of. Although I spent most of my time in Lisa Braeden's loft," he admitted.

"So let me get this straight. You want to drive all the way to Cicero just to hook up with some random chick?"

"Sounds about right," Bridget mumbled.

"She was a yoga teacher. It was the bendiest weekend of my life. Come on. Have a heart, huh? It's my dying wish."

"You've got a lot of dying wishes," Bridget said.

"I want as many as I can get. Come on. Smile, guys! God knows I'm gonna be smiling  
after 24 hours with Gumby girl," he chuckled at that. "Gumby girl."

Dean pulled up to the hotel and Sam got out. Bridget didn't move. "Don't wait up guys…"

"I'm going with you," Bridget said.

"No you're not," he pointed at the door. "Out."

"Nope," she folded her arms over her chest. "I'm going with you so I can at least have the car and go see a movie or something. I'm not going to be trapped in a room with your brother all day again."

"Oh come on!"

"I'm taking the car, Dean."

He growled driving off and she moved into the front seat. "You're not staying there."

"Course not. I don't need to be scarred like Sam is."

"He's overplaying it," Dean defended.

"I think I'd be scarred."

"You'd be in envy."

She snorted, "I'd be terrified."

"Just give me a weekend."

"Ha!" she laughed shaking her head. "You don't change after all these years."

"I'll keep trying til the day I die…so I have less than a year."

Bridget ignored the comment not wanting to think of a life after Dean. They arrived at the house a few minutes later and he was shocked that she started walking towards the house with him. "Hey, I told you that you weren't sticking around."

She gestured at all the cars parked on the street and the balloons tied to the mailbox. "Obviously there's a party going on so I might as well grab some free food while I'm here."

He nodded, "I've taught you well. Get the food and get out."

She rolled her eyes as he knocked. "Fine."

A very pretty and slender brunette opened the door, her light eyes widening as she saw Dean. He gave her that charming smile. "Lisa. How's it going? Wow. So, how long has it been?"

"Dean! Wow… eight, going on nine years now."

"Crazy right!"

"Yeah. So what are you doing here?"

"Oh, well, uh…me and my brother and our friend, Bridget, here were driving through town and I had her drop me off here to surprise you."

"Yeah. Dean Winchester. Wow. Just...wow. I'm - I'm sorry. You kind of came at a bad time. We're having a party," she shook her head slightly but even Bridget knew that wouldn't deter Dean.

"A party? Well, I love parties." He nudged his way past her and Bridget followed him to the back. Stopping in surprise when she saw it was a kids birthday party as at last three eight year olds ran past her. She looked up at Dean who seemed just as shocked. He turned to Lisa in confusion. "So, uh, who's the party for?"

"Ben. My son…"

"Oh…you have a…"

"Son…yeah," she pointed across the way. "That's him over there."

Bridget spotted the boy in the black shirt and jeans with somewhat spikey dark hair opening a present. "AC/DC. Sweet! They rule!"

Bridget's eyes widened. "How old is he, Lisa?"

"Eight. Can you guys excuse me for one minute," she walked away leaving Bridget and Dean standing in utter shock.

"Dean…he's eight…how long ago did you say you were with her…"

He gulped, "Eight years…"

"I was afraid you'd say that."

"I need some cake."

"I need more than cake," she nodded but followed him to get a slice.

Ben was at the table getting a piece as they approached.

"So, it's your birthday?" Bridget asked the little boy.

"Guilty. "

"Pretty cool party," Dean told him.

"Dude, it's so freakin' sweet. And this moon bounce -it's epic."

Bridget almost choked on her cake. He sounded like Dean. Apparently his attitude was genetic.

"Yeah…it's awesome," Dean agreed with an awkward confused smile.

"You know who else thinks they're awesome? Chicks. It's like hot-chick city out there," he pointed at a girl. "Think I'm gonna go make my move."

"Go for it," Bridget choked, downing a cup of punch as the kid walked off. Her eyes couldn't widen any further. After Ben was out f ear shot she finally blurted what was on her mind, "Oh my God! He's a mini you! I am officially in the twilight zone."

"Where do you think I am?" Dean scoffed.

"An early hell?"

"We need to go talk to Lisa," he grabbed Bridget's arm and half dragged her to the kitchen where Lisa was looking slightly perplexed. The look seemed to vanish when she saw Dean.

"Hey. How you guys doing?" she put on a smile though Bridget saw through it. Something was bothering her and she was doubting it was the same thing that was bothering Dean. She followed where Lisa had been looking and saw a mother with her daughter…but something didn't seem right about the little girl. She looked to be too serious for her young age.

"Great, we, uh, just met Ben. Great kid," he said slightly panicking.

"Yeah he is."

"I couldn't help but notice that, uh, he's turning eight. You and me...you know."

"You're... not trying to ask me if he's yours?"

"No…," he laughed nervously. "No of course not."

"That's exactly what he's doing," Bridget cut in

"No, he's not," Lisa said plainly.

"Right," Dean sighed and noticed another woman with her daughter, but even to Dean something looked a little off. "Something wrong with your friend?"

"She's been through a lot. Her ex just died in this horrible accident."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear about that," Bridget said. "I read about that. Power saw accident?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Guess there's been a lot of bad luck in the neighborhood lately."

That peeked their interest. "What kind of bad luck?" Dean asked and figured they might have a case and reason to stick around.

* * *

Bridget knocked briefly on the motel room door hoping Sam wasn't having any alone time on the other side of the door as she pushed it open. "Hey, we got a case."

"Really?" he asked looking up from his laptop, thankfully his pants were buttoned.

Dean nodded, dropping a folder with everything Bridget found at the library in it next to him. "Yeah. You know that one freak accident we read about in the paper? There's four more that never even made the paper, all in this Morning Hill gated community. People falling off of ladders and drowning in their Jacuzzis all over the neighborhood."

He nodded, going through the file. "That is weird."

"Yeah, something's up. Something these nice, big gates can't protect them from."

"And there's something not right about that little girl we saw…" Bridget added.

"What? Kate's daughter? Her dad just died."

"No…there's something more, trust me…I just don't know what yet."

"Your spidey senses tingling?" Dean asked arching an eyebrow.

"Something like that," she nodded. "Guess that means we go under cover." She popped open a suit case and took out a suit. "And Sam's the man to do it."

* * *

Sam's findings were small, but he did agree with Bridget on something not being right with a few of the kids in the town. They were creepy, just staring off at nothing and the mothers appeared shaken up. Not to mention the red mark Sam found on the window of one of the men who had an accident. Bridget continued drawing the spinning wheel in her sketch book as she sat next to Dean on a bench in a park waiting for Sam to call.

"Hey," Dean tapped Bridget's leg and she looked up from her drawing. "Isn't that Ben?"

She spotted the kid sitting sadly on a bench diagonal from them. "Sure is. He looks bummed out."

"Let's go see about what," Dean suggested and started heading over to him. Bridget followed sitting on the other side of the lonely eight year old. "Hey Ben. What's up?" Bridget asked him.

"Hey. You guys were at my party."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm Dean. This is Bridget. Everything okay? Something wrong?" Ben didn't say anything. Dean looked up and noticed a group of boys playing with a gameboy that looked strikingly similar to the one Ben had at his party. "Is that your game they're playing with?"

"Ryan Humphrey borrowed it, and now he won't give it back."

"Well, you want me to go..." Bridget started until Ben cut her off.

"No! Don't go over there! Only bitches send a grown-up."

"You're not wrong," Dean mumbled.

"And I'm not a bitch."

"Is that Humpy? The fat kid who needs to lay off McDonalds?" Bridget asked, pointing across the way.

Ben chuckled, "Yeah."

"Hmm," Dean said and rubbed at his chin. He glanced at Bridget. "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin' he needs to learn?"

Bridget tapped a clear nail against her chin, "He sure does."

"Learn what?" Ben asked.

He scooted him to sit between him and Bridge, "Okay, here's what you do…"

Dean and Bridget watched minutes later as Ben walked over to Ryan, The next thing they knew Ben had kneed Ryan in the groin and gotten his Gameboy back.

Dean laughed to Bridget, "Oh man, that was awesome."

Their joy was cut off by a very furious Lisa. "Benjamin Isaac Braeden! What's gotten into you?"

"He stole my game," Ben defended.

"So you kick him? Since when is..." Lisa noticed Dean's grin. "Did you tell him to do that?"

"What? Somebody had to teach him how to kick the bully in the nads."

"Who asked you to teach him anything?" she hissed and started moving her son to the car.

"Just relax."

"What are you even still doing here? We had one weekend together a million years ago. You don't know me. You have no business with my son."

"Lisa," he called after her.

"Leave us alone."

Ben broke away from her for a moment and hugged Dean. "Thanks."

Dean patted his back in surprise and watched him drive off giving him a wave as Lisa glowered.

* * *

Heading back to the hotel they found Sam back in his street clothes in front of his laptop. "I'm sticking to something isn't right with these kids," Bridget said as she put her sketch pad back in her purse. "At the park I noticed two kids not doing anything. They were just standing there watching the other kids play. It was freaky."

"Yeah. Tell me about it. What do you guys know about changelings?"

"Evil monster babies?" Dean asked.

"Not exactly babies," Bridget shook her head and adjusted her tank top.

"You guys mean the kids. Creepy, "stare at you like you're lunch" kids?"

"Yeah. There's one at every victim's house."

"Every victim?"

Sam nodded. "So, changelings can perfectly mimic children. According to lore, they climb in the window, snatch the kid. There were marks on the windowsill at one of the kid's houses. Looked to me like blood."

Dean grabbed a torch out of his weapon back, trying to fix it. "The changeling grabs a kid, assumes its form, joins the happy fam just for kicks?"

"Not quite. Changelings feed on the mom: synovial fluid. The moms have these odd bruises on the back of their necks. Changelings can drain them for a few weeks before mom finally croaks," Sam explained.

Dean nodded, "And then there's dad and the babysitter."

"Seems like anyone who gets between the changeling and its food source ends up dead," Bridget added.

Dean held up his torch, "And fire's the only way to waste them?"

Sam nodded, "According to my research it is."

"Great. We'll just bust in, drag the kids out, torch them on the front lawn. That will play great with the neighbors. What about the real ones? What happens to them?"

He looked at his laptop. "Says they stash them underground somewhere. I don't know why, but if it's true, the real kids might be out there."

Bridget stood up, stretching. "We better start looking."

"So, any kid in the neighborhood is vulnerable?" Dean asked.

"Yup," Sam said closing down his computer.

"We gotta make a stop. I want to check on someone."

"If the real kids are still alive, we don't have time," Sam argued.

Bridget patted his shoulder, "Trust me, Sam. We need to check on this kid. We actually like this one."

Ten minutes later they were at Lisa's house and Dean was back in the car in a panic, driving off. "They got Ben."

"What?" Bridget exclaimed sitting forward. "Are you sure?"

"Yup, there's a red mark on the windowsill and that kid in there wasn't Ben."

"The blood mark?" Sam asked.

"It's not blood and I think I know where they are," Dean said as he parked the car in front of an empty house.

"Here?" Bridget asked. She got out of the car and walked towards the house with them, frowning she bent down and touched the dirt. It was red and chalky. "Red dirt…"

"That's what was on the window. Sam, you take the front. I'll go around the back with Bridget."

It didn't take long for Bridget to pick the lock. She moved her gun around the empty area, motioning for Dean to follow. He moved into the next room. It was empty except for the cages filled with kids. Ben was in one of them. Dean moved over to the cage and Bridget stayed standing with her gun in hand, watching the doors.

"Ben..Ben...it's okay. I'm gonna get you out of here," Dean told him, picking the lock.

A shrieking noise caught Bridget's attention. "We gotta go. Now!" Bridget said and helped Dean get the rest of the kids. There was no time to reach the back door. Dean quickly knocked out a window, using his jacket to removed the glass and helped the kids get out.

Sam hurried into the room, breathless. "There's a mother changeling."

"That would be what I heard," Bridget said point blank.

"We got to get these kids out quick."

"There's one more," Bridget pointed at a cage.

"I guess that's why the changelings are keeping the kids alive -so the mom can snack on them," Sam said, breaking the lock on the last cage.

Bridget helped the little girl out and looked at Ben. "Ben, get them out of here! You're in charge. Go!" She came back in the window to see the mother changeling. The real estate woman from the party. "Oh I should have figured with the cheap suits you wear."

Dean moved in first. With one easy blow she sent him through the unfinished wall, proving to be stronger than she looked. Sam grabbed the torch Dean dropped and flicked pen the lighter. The Mother was faster. She kicked the lighter out of his hand before kicking him in the other direction leaving Bridget standing. Bridget glanced at the torch, knowing the lighter was behind her. There was only one plan and it was going to hurt. She grabbed the torch making a slow move for the lighter. The mother did exactly what she hoped. She grabbed Bridget by her hair and tossed her in the other direction.

"Bridget," Dean called out, watching her get tossed and hoping she wasn't hurt. He moved towards the Mother. She deflected his blow and hit him in the face twice before knocking him into another wall, blood dripping from his lip.

That was all Bridget needed to anger her. She stared at the lighter and felt something inside her switch on. The lighter moved from the window sill straight into her hand. She moved to her feet, lighting the lighter. "You really shouldn't have done that." She ignited the torch sending the Mother up in flames. She screamed for a moment before burning into nothing.

Dean dusted himself off, helping Sam to his feet. "Well, that went well."

"Glad I could save your asses," Bridget smiled.

"I was just distracting her," Dean said.

Bridget rolled her eyes, "Oh, I'm sure."

"Let's just call it a night," Sam suggested rubbing his jaw.

Dean cracked his shoulder with a wince. "Yeah, good idea."

* * *

The next morning they had the car loaded ready to leave town. But first, of course, Dean had to stop by to see Lisa and Ben. Bridget went with him while Sam stayed at the hotel to fix some things. She didn't like the way his voice sounded or the look in his eyes. He was hiding something from them. She could tell. He hadn't been the same in the last couple weeks since they took care of the seven sins. He'd been more secretive. She just wasn't sure why.

She glanced up from the page in her book she had read a hundred times but still couldn't remember from lack of focus. However it did cause her to focus in on Lisa kissing Dean on the porch. She felt her heart sink and her face get red as she pressed her tongue to her cheek in what she assumed was anger and…jealousy? She looked away. Why would she be jealous of Dean kissing another woman? Why would it cause these mixed emotions? Dean was…well Dean…but she still couldn't help the jealousy.

Her thoughts were broken as he entered the car. "You ready?"

"Yup, let's go get your brother."

After a quick pit stop for food since Dean was "starving", he honked the horn for Sam, neither wanting to get out of the car. Bridget moved to the back seat as Sam approached getting in. She saw the same off look in his eyes. "What were you doing?"

"Just research," he said simply. It was good enough for Dean as he drove with the radio blaring, munching on a burger. Bridget noticed though. Something wasn't right.

Bridget reached over and grabbed a burger, catching a faint scent of perfume on Sam that wasn't hers. She glanced back at the hotel as they drove off wondering who had been there with him. She knew he'd continue to lie, but she'd figure it out. Because whatever it was Sam was doing, Bridget had a deep feeling it was going to lead to something malevolent …and her instincts were never wrong.


	34. S3 Bad Day at Black Rock

**S3 EP 34 Bad Day at Black Rock**

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long. Work has been crazy but I haven't given up on this series. Enjoy this long awaited chapter!**

* * *

Her head was starting to pound. That much was for sure. Especially after the realization that this Ruby girl Sam was getting information from, the very same one she saw at the hotel, was a demon. But Sam saw nothing wrong in that and to her and Dean, Sam had lost his mind. This was part of the reason for her headache, that and the argument ensuing in the car.

"Because Demon, that's why, I mean the second you find out this Ruby chick is a Demon you go for the Holy water, you don't chat!" Dean argued.

"No one was chatting, Dean."

"Really?" Bridget jumped in. "Then why didn't you send her packing to hell, Sam?"

"Because- Because she said she might be able to help us out."

Bridget snorted. He really had lost his mind now and was desperate if he trusted a demon. "How?"

"Answer Bridget," Dean said after Sam paused. "This I got to hear. How could she possibly help us?"

"With the deal…"

"What is wrong with you, huh? She lying, you gotta know that, don't you? She knows what your weakness is, it's me."

"Look I'm not an idiot Dean, I'm not talking about trusting her, I'm talking about using her. I mean we're at war, right? And we don't know jack about the enemy; we don't know where they are, we don't know what they're doing. I mean, Hell, we don't know what they want. Now this Ruby girl knows more than we will ever find out on our own. Now yes, it's a risk, I know that, but we need to take it."

"You feeling okay, Sam?" Bridget asked.

"Yes I'm fine, why are you always asking me that?"

Before anyway could answer, a phone started ringing. Bridget reached for hers but her screen was dark. "Not mine."

"Not mine either."

"Check the glove compartment," Dean said. "It's Dads."

"Dad's?"

"Yes, I keep it charged up in case any of his old contacts call."

Sam flipped the phone open. "Hello? Yes... this is Edgar Cayce..." he looking questionably at Bridget and Dean who shrugged. "No, no, no, no, don't- don't call the police, I'll handle this myself. Thanks. You know, can you just uh, can you just lock it back up for me? Great. Uhm, I- I uh, I don't have my- my book in front of me," he gestured at Bridget for a pen and she handed him the one tucked behind her ear. "Do you- do you have the address so I can...Sure, OK. Go ahead. Right, thanks a lot." He handed Bridget her pen. "Did you guys know Dad had a storage unit?"

"Really?" Bridget frowned.

"Outside of Buffalo."

"No way," Dean said.

"Yeah…and someone just broke into it," he said.

* * *

They managed to get the keys from the owner of the storage facility without too much hassle. And promise that the police were surely not needed to come investigate. It would have been the last thing they needed knowing what John Winchester could possibly have in there. The three stood outside the sliding door. Dean shook his head, turning the key over in his hand. "Man…"

"What?" Bridget frowned.

"Just Dad. You know him and his secrets. Spend all this time with the guy and it's like we barely even know the man."

Sam shrugged, "Well, we're about to learn something."

Dean unlocked the padlock and slid the door open. Bridget turned on her flashlight and stepped inside. She quickly spotted a symbol drawn on the floor along with bloody footprints. "Blood and demons allowed."

"Check this out," Dean called from the other side.

She walked over and noticed the trip wire on the floor locked to the shot gun mounted in the corner. "Whoever broke in here got tagged."

"I got two sets of boot treads here, looks like it was a two-man job. And our friend with the buckshot in him looks like he kept walking," Dean said.

Sam shook his head, "So what's the deal? Dad would do work here or something?"

"Living the high life, as usual," Dean said.

Bridget flashed her light around pausing on a desk. She picked up a trophy and blew on it, coughing at the dust and reading the plaque, "1995…"

Sam's eyes caught sight of it and widened as he took the three steps next to her. "No way! That's my Division Championship soccer trophy. I can't believe he kept this." She handed it over to him and picked up a harsh looking shot gun. Dean boasted next to her other side with pride, "Oh, wow! It's my first sawed-off. I made it myself. 6th Grade."

"You must have been so proud," she said flatly looking amidst all the things John had collected from his boys. She paused with a frown, picking up a beaded bracelet hanging out of an obvious handmade cup from one of the boys, tracing her fingers over the colorful but faded beads as a smile came to her face. He had kept it.

"What's that?" Sam asked with a frown.

"A bracelet I made in third grade art class. I got an A on it and always wore it every day of my life. It was my good luck charm…the couple times I didn't wear it bad things happened…like my parents dying. I gave it to your Dad for good luck one night he went hunting. It was after he had gotten banged up during a ghost hunt. I told him it would bring him good luck…never knew he kept it…"

"Apparently he thought highly of you too, Bridge," Sam told her patting her shoulder.

"Holy crap. Look at this," Dean said pointing to a box. Bridget returned the bracelet to the cup and moved over to Dean, "he had land mines... Which they didn't take. Or the guns. I guess they knew what they were after, huh?"

"Hey guys, check this out," Sam's flashlight was pointed to a box with symbols etched into it. "See these symbols? That's binding magic. These are curse boxes."

Dean glanced at him, "Curse boxes? They're supposed to keep the evil mojo in right, kinda like the Pandora deal."

"Yeah, yeah, they're built to contain the power of the cursed object."

"Well Dad's journal didn't mention a whole bunch of stuff, you know? Dangerous hexed items, fetishes; he never did say where they ended up."

Bridget glanced through it, making sure not to touch anything, "No, then this must be his toxic waste dump. One box is missing... great."

"Well maybe they didn't open it."

"Hope they do and fall into boiling water," Bridget sighed. "I'm guessing we got to go find this now."

"You got it," Dean nodded.

"We should check with the security tape…I'm betting if they were dumb enough to get shot they were dumb enough to be on tape."

"I'm betting you're right."

* * *

Bridget was right. The two bozos were on tape along with their license plate making it two phone calls too easy for Sam to get their address. They were parked behind the alley of the address and Dean looked at the dump of a Honda getaway car the two had used.

"Connecticut. Last three digits 880," he read to Sam.

"That's it," he nodded.

"Should've blacked out their plates before they parked in front of the security camera..."

Bridget put her drawing pad down of a rabbit's foot, thankful she wasn't drawing Sleeping Beauty on a bed with a wall clock pointed at midnight behind her and a dark shadow of prince charming nearby. It was beginning to be annoying with the fairy tales. "Told you they weren't too bright."

They snuck up the apartment, getting in too easily as the two red necks were playing poker at a table.

Dean wasn't one to wait. "FREEZE! NOBODY MOVE!"

The two looked confused at the commotion and the three pointing guns at them. Bridget frowned at the rabbit's foot on the table and noticed the open box. "Don't tell me they opened it…"

"They did," Sam nodded, gun drawn.

Dean shoved one of the guys into the wall. "You opened it?"

"Are you guy's cops?"

"What was in the box?" he asked, ignoring the question.

Bridget frowned at rabbit's foot on the table. "I think it's the foot."

"Really?" Dean questioned.

The guy seemed to take Dean's distraction to his advantage. He knocked the gun out of Dean's hand. It hit the floor and went of causing a bullet to mysteriously ricochet off the heater and hit Sam's gun, knocking it from his hand causing his to fire and knock Bridget's from hers. With much confusion, Bridget went for the gun at the same time as the other guy. He shoved her causing her to fall into Dean and both to go through the table.

"What is going on?" she grumbled, struggling to detangle herself from Dean.

"I don't know but it's pissing me off," he growled getting to his feet. At that moment the other guy hit Dean in the face sending him back to the floor and crashing back into Bridget who had just gotten up. He watched helplessly as the man strangled Sam and hope came to her the minute she saw Sam grab the rabbits foot and knock the guy off.

"Dean! Bridge! I got it!" Sam called out.

This time the two got to their feet without hassle and the three booked it for the door as the two goons struggled, their luck having run out. "Is that a lucky rabbit's foot?" Bridget asked.

Sam nodded. "I think so."

* * *

Bridget was still staring at the rabbit's foot Sam had grabbed from the guys. She hadn't touched it or taken it from him. Something in her told her that wouldn't be a good idea and she learned long ago to trust those intuitions. Instead she busied herself with looking through John's journal for any mention of the foot.

Dean reentered the car from the liquor store and she shook her head. "There's nothing in here on the foot." She said as Dean scrambled through the bag he had. "What do you got?"

He pulled out scratchers with a grin, flashing them at Sam. "You gotta be kidding?" Sam shook his head.

"What? Hey, that was my gun he was aiming at your head, and my gun don't jam so that was a lucky break. Not to mention them taking themselves out, also a lucky break. Here, scratch one. C'mon Sam, scratch and win!"

Sam took the scratcher and scratched at it. A frown crossed his face as he got all 7's. He handed the card to Dean. "1200 dollars…you just won 1200 dollars!"

"Dean this thing has to be cursed or your dad wouldn't have it locked up and booby trapped."

"I don't know Bridge, doesn't seem that cursed to me!" he handed Sam another scratcher and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm calling Bobby," she said stepping out of the car, pulling out her cell phone and clicking on his speed dial while Dean kept squealing in delight at the winning scratchers from Sam.. He answered her on the third ring.

"Tell me the boys didn't get arrested again."

"Nope, nothing like that. But, uh, did you know about John's storage unit?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Did you know about his curse boxes?"

"Yeah? Hell I built them for him…I'm guessing this news is about to get bad."

"Fifteen thousand dollars…" Dean said getting out of the car and laying the scratchers on the hood in delight. "He won us fifteen thousand dollars…"

"Depends on who you ask there, Bobby."

"What's going on?" he asked her.

"Well…couple guys broke into the unit and stole a rabbit's foot."

"The rabbit's foot. Shit, did you touch it?"

Bridget watched as Sam frowned, moving a newspaper on the ground and uncovering a gold watch. He looked at her with concern while Dean nabbed it, giggling.

"Nope, but Sam has it."

"Dammit… listen, you have got a serious problem."

"So we're noticing…"

"That rabbit's foot ain't no dime store notion. It's real Hoodoo, Old World stuff."

"It's a Hell of a luck charm at the moment, Bobby."

"It's not a luck charm, she made it to kill people, Bridget!"

She kept the worry off her face as Sam bent to pick up a twenty dollar bill he found under the car. Bobby continued talking as she listened, watching Sam. "See, you touch it, you own it. You own it, sure, you get a run of good luck to beat the Devil. But, you lose it, that luck turns. It turns so bad that you're dead inside a week."

"So I have to make sure he doesn't lose it."

"EVERYBODY LOSES IT, BRIDGET!" Bobby yelled causing her to jump slightly.

"Then tell me how to get rid of it, Bobby, because I'm not going through this again."

"I don't know if you can, sweet heart," he said defeated.

"Find a way, Bobby," she said quietly so the brothers wouldn't hear her. "I'm having a hard enough time with John dead and Dean's days numbered. I won't lose Sam, too."

"I know…lemme look through my books and see what I can find. You make sure he doesn't lose that foot and don't touch it, Bridget."

"Thank you, Bobby."

"Don't thank me yet. I'll call you soon."

He hung up and Bridget stood there a moment watching the boys grin, knowing that these days were numbered too and that soon it'd just be two of them. And if Bobby couldn't help it there would only be her.

She faned a smile. "Let's go inside and get some food."

"Sounds like a great idea," Dean said. "I'm starved." He tucked his winnings into his pocket and led the way.

After they were seated did Bridget relay most of the information she learned, leaving out that there was no way to break it that Bobby knew of.

"Don't worry, Bobby'll find a way to break it. Until then I say we hit Vegas, pull a little Rain Man. You can be Rain Man," Dean said to Sam.

"Dean, we're just going to lay low until Bobby figures this out," she said.

Sam had his laptop open ad was scanning the internet. "Bobby's right. It's lore goes way back. Pure Hoodoo. You can't just cut one off any rabbit. Has to be in a cemetery, under a full moon, on a Friday the thirteenth."

The short haired young waitress approached the table with a coffee pot, smiling at Sam. "Can I freshen you up?"

"Yeah, yeah sure. Thanks." He said pushing the cup towards her.

She leaned to pour it glancing at Bridget who gasped slightly as her necklace twitched. She touched the ring with a frown as the old Bela Lugosi movie flashed through her head. The waitress spilled some of the coffee onto Sam. "Oops. Let me get that for you. Sorry about that."

"It's, uh, it's no problem," she grinned and walked away. Both Dean and Sam watched her go. Only Bridget sat still confused by her necklaces reaction and the name.

"Dude. If you were ever gonna get lucky..."

"Shut up," Sam laughed and picked up his coffee. It dropped and spilled across the table and onto his lap. He jumped from his seat, knocking into a waiter who dropped a tray full of plates. "Sorry! Oh jeez!"

"How was that good?" Dean asked confused,

Bridget's eyes widened and scanned the area. The waitress was gone. "Oh no…Sam, where's the foot?"

Sam checked his pockets and looked at them in shock. It was gone.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean yelled and the three took off for the parking lot, but she was gone.

Bridget shook her head in frustration. "I knew something wasn't right about her. I knew it! Dammit!"

Sam tripped and fell trying to keep up.

Dean sighed and helped him up. "Wow, you suck dude. So now you're luck turns bad?"

He inspected his bloody cut up knee. "I'm guessing so."

"I'm calling Bobby," Bridget said, pulling out her phone.

"Good idea," Dean muttered as Sam stepped in bubble gum.

"You got some timing, girl," Bobby said as he answered.

"Good, because the foot got stolen by a thief. She must be a high class one too I'm betting and hired those two bozos from earlier to rob John's storage unit."

"What? He lost it! How's he doing?"

Bridget glanced over to see Sam lose his shoe down a storm drain, mirroring the drawing she had done weeks ago. "You got something right?"

"Wasn't easy but I found a heavyweight cleansing ritual that should do the trick. Except you need the foot."

"The thief's name is Lugosi…I think," she frowned at the sudden recollection of it.

"Lugosi? Lugos- Aw crap, it's probably Bela."

Bridget frowned deeper. "Like the vampire…that's weird."

"What is?"

"Nothing…just had a reaction to her and that movie came to my head for some reason."

"Must be your necklace, always did give you a sixth sense."

"I guess, but what about her, Bobby."

"Bela Talbot's her real name. Crossed paths with her once or twice."

"Well she knew about the rabbit's foot, is she a Hunter?"

"Pretty friggin' far from a Hunter, but she knows her way around the territory. She's been out of the country. Last I heard she was in the Middle East someplace."

"Well…she's back…"

"Which means seriously bad luck for you."

She watched Sam sit on the curb miserably. "You have no idea."

"At least I might know some folks who know how to find her."

"Thanks Bobby. Again."

"Just look out for Sam…again," he added and hung up.

"I lost my shoe, Bridge," Sam pouted.

Bridget shook her head at Dean. "Let's get him in the room so he can sit in one spot and not move."

"Good idea," Dean nodded.

* * *

They managed to get him to the room with Sam only tripping once. He sat on the edge of the bed looking glum. Bobby called Dean this time and he hung up, thanking the older man. "All right Bobby's got it on pretty good authority that this Bela chick lives in Queens. So it'll take me about two hours to get there."

"So what are we doing here?" Sam asked gesturing at the room.

"You my brother are staying here 'cause I don't want your bad luck getting me and Bridget killed."

"What am I even supposed to do, Dean?"

"Nothing, nothing. I want you to sit right here, and don't move, OK? Don't turn on the light, don't turn off the light. Don't even scratch your nose. We'll be right back. Just don't touch anything."

Dean made sure to lock the door behind him and the two got into the Impala driving off. "You sure leaving him alone is a good idea?" Bridget asked after a few miles.

"He'll be fine if he doesn't move."

She nodded slowly, not sure if she still agreed with the plan, but knowing if Sam came it put them more in danger to get at Bela. "So what's the idea behind getting into her house?"

"Easy. You can break through her security system with your handy dandy alarm trigger and we get in."

"But we can't touch the foot and we don't know where she has it."

He grinned. "She'll show us where it's at."

"Oh yeah, how?"

"We trick her. She'll see us coming in her security cameras meaning she'll go for the foot knowing we want it, we'll be inside by the time that happens."

"And from there?"

"We improvise?"

She shook her head in disbelief. "How very Bond of you."

Dean's smile stayed in place as they pulled up to the lavish one story pad. He took a gun from the glove compartment and Bridget pulled hers from her bag in the back, tucking it in the band of her shorts and grabbing her alarm kicker.

"Ready?"

"Let's get this done quick and get back to Sam," she nodded.

They approached the front door and Bridget assumed Bela had seen them on camera already. It took her seconds to pop the lock and turn off the security alarm. Dean jotted a note on a sticky pad and placed it on her alarm key in as he guided Bridget to the dark part of the living room.

Sure enough Bela came through the living room, not noticing them and paused when she saw her door open. She read the note that said Turn Around and did so, her gun in one hand a pair of tongs with the rabbit's foot in the other.

"You left without your tip," Bridget said, gun pointed. Not surprised that her dark hair had been a wig and she was a blonde.

Dean gestured at the foot with his gun. "You're gonna give it back."

Bela laughed, speaking with a British accent. "Sweetie, no I'm not."

"You do know it's cursed, don't you?" Dean asked her.

She shrugged setting the foot on a nearby dresser, "You'd be surprised what some people would pay for something like that."

"Really?" Dean said intrigued by the prospect of money.

"There's a lucrative market out there. A lot of money to be made. You Hunters with all those amulets and talismans you use to stop those big bad monsters. Any one of them could put your children's children through college."

Bridget changed the subject. "So you know the truth, about what's really going on out there and this is what you decide to do with it? You become a thief?"

"I procure unique items for a select clientele."

Dean nodded his head slowly moving around the room, getting Bela to move too, "Yeah. A thief."

"No, a great thief"

"Oh, let's not get cocky now," Bridget said. "After all, we did find you and break into your nice secure home."

"What's to stop me from shooting either one of you?"

"The fact you can only shoot one of us before the other kills you where you stand," Dean answered.

"How noble," she smiled.

"Look Bela, my brother, he touched the foot. And when you took it from him, his luck went from-"

She cut him off. "I know how it works."

"So then you know he's gonna die unless we can destroy it."

Bela blinked. "Oh... You can have the foot…for five million dollars."

"Nice. Yeah, I'll just call my Banker. How'd you even find the damn thing? Stuck in the back of some storage place, middle of nowhere."

Bela looked over her shoulder towards the fire place where a Ouija board sat. "I just asked a few ghosts of the people that it killed. They were very attuned to its location."

"So you're only out for yourself, huh? It's all about number one? You don't care if people die in the process," Bridget asked her, gun still pointed and the eagerness to shoot her and take it was overwhelming.

"Being a Hunter is so much more noble, is it? A bunch of obsessed, revenge-driven sociopaths trying to save a world that can't be saved."

Dean tisked. "Well aren't you a glass half-full?"

"We're all going to Hell, Dean. Might as well enjoy the ride."

"Oh I agree with you," he nodded. "But I'll just be taking this." He dangled the rabbit's foot from his hand. "Looks like you're not the only one with sticky fingers. If it's any consolation I think you're a truly awful person."

Bridget chuckled as she stood by Dean and Bela fired, missing them completely. They headed for the door, more bullets misfiring around them and made it to the car without any problems.

"Let's hurry and get back to Sam," she said.

"Don't worry, I got all the luck," he said holding the foot as he drove.

"Yeah, but Sam doesn't," she reminded him and felt the car go faster.

They were at the hotel within minutes and both were quick to notice another car in the parking lot that hadn't been there before along with other figured moving within Sam's room through the curtain.

She grabbed her gun, "Looks like we got trouble…"

Dean kissed the foot, "Don't worry we got this."

They made it inside the room as the older man had his gun to Sam's head and he was saying something to the other man in the room. "Shut up! It's God, Creedy. He led us here for one reason. To do his work. This is destiny."

Bridget cocked her gun causing the two men to look towards her and Dean.

"Nope, not destiny," she said. "Just a rabbit's foot."

"Put the gun down kids, or you're gonna be scraping brain off the wall," the one with the gun, Kubrick, said.

"What? This gun?" Dean asked and put it on the dresser and grabbed a pen that was lying there. "OK. But you see there's something about me that you don't know."

"What's that?"

He smiled, "It's my lucky day." He threw the pen and it landed perfectly in Kubrick's gun that had been pointed at them.

Sam seemed shocked and amazed and even Bridget chuckled in amusement, moving towards Sam to undo his bindings with the knife from her boot.

"Oh my God, did you see that?" Dean grinned.

Creedy lunged at Dean but he side stepped causing him to crash into the door. He picked up the TV remote and threw it at Kubrick, hitting him right between the eyes. "I'm amazing." Kubrick fell unconscious. "I'm Batman."

Sam stared at him unimpressed as the last of the rope was cut off him. "Yeah…you're Batman."

* * *

They were able to get to the cemetery without too much problem due to Dean having the foot. Sam only tripped twice as they arrived and started the ritual to end the curse. He sprinkled a powdery substance onto the embers of the fire. "All right. Bone ash, cayenne pepper, that should do it."

"Okay Dean, the foot…" she turned towards him and shook her head in disbelief…he was scratching more scratchers. "Dean!"

"One second…"

"Now Dean!" she growled.

"I'm bringing home the bacon," he grinned and slid the scratchers into his jacket pocket, slinging the jacket over the gravestone.

"All right, say goodbye "wascally wabbit"," he said to the foot.

A gun cocking had the three freeze and turn slowly. Bela stood there gun drawn with a smile. "I think you'll find that belongs to me. Or, you know, whatever. Put the foot down, honey."

"No. You're not going to shoot anybody. See I happen to be able to read people. OK, you're a thief, fine, but you're not-."

The gun went off and Sam fell with a groan clutching his shoulder.

"SAM!" Bridget yelled, kneeling down next to him to inspect it. It was a clear shoulder shot, straight through and nothing major was hit but it was still a bullet wound. She glared at the woman, "You stupid bitch…"

She pointed the gun at her, "The foot, or she's next."

"I'm gonna kick your ass so hard," Bridget growled and moved to stand.

"Back off, tiger. Back off. You make one more move and I'll pull the trigger," she looked at Dean. "You've got the luck, Dean. You I can't hit. But your brother? Him I can't miss. And I'm sure I can't miss your little girlfriend either."

"Who you calling little?" Bridget glared, one hand on Sam's shoulder. She could feel something rising in her with the anger as her necklace started getting warm.

"What the Hell is wrong with you? You don't just go around shooting people like that!" Dean yelled at her.

"Relax. It's a shoulder hit, I can aim. Besides, who here hasn't shot a few people. Put the rabbit's foot on the ground now."

"All right! All right. Take it easy" Dean moved to drop it but as it fell from his hand Bridget unleashed what she was holding and the foot flew towards Bela who caught it. Dean glanced at her with a frown and she smirked with a shrug, helping Sam sit up. He smiled back at her as Bela cursed, now stuck with the curse.

"Now, what do you say we destroy that ugly-ass piece of dead thing?" he asked her.

She swore again and dropped it in the fire, leaning on the headstone by it. "Thanks very much. I'm out one and a half million, and on the bad side of a very powerful, fairly psychotic buyer."

"Wow. I really don't feel bad about that. Sam?"

He was standing on his feet now, clutching his shoulder and shook his head. "Nope. Not even a little. Bridget?"

"Hmm, nope. If she were on fire and I had a bottle of water, I'd drink it."

"Hmm. Maybe next time I'll hang you out to dry," Bela said to her.

"Next time you'll be looking up at me from the floor as I knock you out," she promised her with a smile that caused her eyes to go cold.

"Oh don't go away angry, Bela, just go away," Dean told her.

She smirked and walked off into the dark, "Have a nice night."

Dean looked over at Sam. "You good?"

"I'll live." He nodded as Dean grabbed his jacket and they headed back towards the Impala.

I guess we're back to normal now, huh? No good luck, no bad luck. Oh! I forgot we're up $46000, I almost forgot about the... scratch tickets." He patted his pockets and a look of horror crossed his face. "That bitch!"

"What?" Sam asked as they reached the car.

"She stole the tickets! I swear to God I'll gut her and rip her eyeballs out her their socket and-"

"Relax," Bridget said and held up two of them. "She didn't get them all. I got five thousand right here…it's better than nothing."

Dean looked as if he might cry and grabbed her before she could react, pulling her into a hug. "You're the best Batgirl a Batman could have…and didn't Batman and Batgirl have a sexual thing?"

"Um…no, that was Catwoman and Batman," she patted his back and tucked the tickets into her boot. "Let's just get back to the hotel in one piece and worry about the scratchers later."

After a minor pit stop to get food for an overly hungry Dean, they made it back to the hotel. Dean was quick to eat and turn on the TV while Bridget took out peroxide and stitches kit she always carried. She sat on the bed next to Sam, ready to suture his shoulder.

"Sam, let me see your shoulder," Bridget said, needle in hand.

"It's fine. Just let me sleep," he said and tried to roll over but she rolled him back moving higher on the bed.

"Sam, let me fix your shoulder."

"I can do it myself," he said and tried to sit up, wincing at the pain.

"I know you can, but I'm here so you don't have to," she told him. "Take your jacket and shirt off."

"I can clean it myself," he repeated and tried to move her aside.

She moved his hand down and straddled his legs in one swift movement. "Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way. I'm game for either because it's not like I haven't stripped you of your clothes before."

"Oh God," Dean groaned from the other side of the bed. "I didn't need to hear that. I just ate."

She ignored him. "Well?"

Sam sighed, "Fine."

"Thank you," she grinned as she removed his shirt and started cleaning the area and starting the stitches. "And if I'm Batgirl, that makes you Robin."

Dean snorted, watching the TV. "Yeah, he would be the flamboyant one."

"I am not Robin," Sam protested.

"Then you're Aquaman."

Sam thought about it wincing slightly at the stitches in his back now. "I'd rather be Robin…least he becomes Nightwing."

Dean chuckled, "That means you're name's Dick."

Bridget shook her head as she finished the stitches. "You would make a six year old joke." She packed up her stitches kit and took off her gloves. "Next time I see that Bela bitch she's gonna eat asphalt."

"Girl on girl fight," Dean smiled. "There's a hot thought."

She gave him a point blank look as she set her stuff in her bag taking out her drawing pad. "Keep the thoughts, you'll need them for your lonely nights."

"A cursed foot that causes extreme luck and bad luck," Sam sighed getting comfortable. "What could possibly be next?"

Bridget flipped through the few pages of fairy tales from the Bog Bad Wolf to a poisonous apple to a spinning wheel. She stopped on the last of a girl asleep in a bed and a prince kneeling over her to kiss her. "Who knows…"

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER COMING VERY SOON AND ITS DIFFERENT FROM THE EPISODE BY FAR**


	35. S3 Bedtime Stories

**S3 EP49 BEDTIME STORIES**

**AN: Sorry for the wait. This one goes quite a bit differently at the end from the episode it's based off of. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Bridget stared out the window, hand under her chin as she listened to the two argue in the front yet again. They couldn't go three days without a ridiculous argument. She continued coloring the red apple on her page, drawing more fairytales. She was in a Snow White mood at the moment considering she was in the car with Grumpy and Dopey.

"Why not?" Sam argued for the hundredth time.

"Cuz I said so," came Dean's sharp reply that Bridget knew well enough she mouthed it while she continued drawing.

With a yawn of boredom from going through this many times before she flipped the page to look at her earlier drawings. The Big Bad Wolf, the spinning wheel from Sleeping Beauty with Aurora's hand reaching for the sharp point with her fingers outstretched for eternal sleep, even a pumpkin for Cinderella. She wanted to turn these two into pumpkins.

"We got the Colt now," Sam argued for the twentieth time.

"Sam," Dean shook his head.

"We can summon the crossroad demon and pull the trigger."

"No, we're not summoning her."

"We'll force her out of your deal."

"We don't know that'll work!" Dean said sharply. Bridget continued doodling. She heard this argument before and could probably recite it back.

"If we shoot her she dies and it'll go away."

"We don't know that'll work! All you're pitching is a bunch of ifs and maybes and it's not good enough because what if you're wrong and you die."

"And if we don't you die."

Bridget had enough of the building frustration. "Jesus, so then one of you dies no matter what! Let it go already! Because if I have to keep listening to this, you both die! Now please, tell us about the psychotic killer we got going on because I've drawn nothing resembling that."

Sam grudgingly changed subjects. "Rips victims apart with brute like force."

"Any mention of his razor sharp teeth or his four inch claws or animal eyes," Dean asked.

"No, but the lunar cycle is right and we only have til Friday."

"Two days, no sweat. Any drawings of werewolves, Bridge?"

"Not unless you count the Big Bad Wolf."

"You still drawin' fairytales?"

"Yup. Beats reality right now."

"Can't you draw something relevant?"

She glared at him through the mirror. "I feel like fairytales so bite me."

"Someone's grouchy."

"Someone's tired of being in the car with you two bickering. Can we just go to the hospital in peace to see what's going on with this werewolf creature?"

"Well, if it's a werewolf it'll be easy," Dean said.

Sam sighed saying what Bridget had bee thinking, "When is it ever easy?"

* * *

She had hoped to shower before playing cops, but it looked like Dean wanted to get straight to the point as they pulled up to the hospital and walked in with business suits on, Bridget in her skirt and heels, hair twirled up in a bun. The doctor led them straight to their only survivor from the wolf attack. They flashed their badges at the middle aged man lying tired in the hospital bed. Obviously still shaken from seeing his friends killed at the construction site. "I'm Detective Plant, this is Detective Page and Detective Jones," Dean introduced them, tucking away his badge. "We're from the County Sheriff's Department."

"Yeah…uh, I've been expecting you guys," he said with a slight nod.

"You have?" Dean asked puzzled.

"All morning. You are the sketch artist right?" Kyle asked.

"Absolutely," Dean smiled causing slightly confused looks to cross Sam and Bridget. More so for Bridget when Dean grabbed her elbow, pulling her forward. "My partner, Detective Page here is an artist. The things this lady can do with a pen," he chuckled.

"Including shove it in places you wouldn't like," she said quietly so only Dean would hear before smiling at Kyle. She reached into her bag and took out her pad and pencil. "If you don't mind me asking, sir, how did you get away?"

He shook his head. "I have no idea. I was hiding and he found me. He was coming right for me and he just stopped. Stared at me with this blank look. After that he just took off running."

She nodded. "Give me as much detail as you can."

"Uh yeah. Uh, he's about six feet tall…muscular figure."

"Okay…what about his hair?"

"Dark…"

Bridget wasn't getting much, "His eyes?"

"His eyes?"

"Blue."

She frowned, "Blue?"

"May, it was dark."

"Did they seem…animalish?" Dean asked.

"Huh?" Kyle asked confused.

"What about his teeth? Anything strange about them?" Bridget changed subjects.

He shook his head. "No, they were just teeth."

"What about his fingernails?" Dean pressed.

Kyle finally snapped. "OK look he- he's just a- a normal guy, with normal eyes and- a-and teeth and fingernails!"

"Look, sir, it's ok if-"

Kyle cut Bridget off, face red with his anger. "No. Those were my brothers. This guy, he- he killed my brothers. How would you feel?"

"It's horrible…I know," Bridget said sadly touching her necklace absentmindedly.

"I can't imagine anything worse," Sam added and glanced at Dean who looked away.

After a moment, Dean continued, "I know this isn't easy but if you could remember any more details."

Kyle nodded and his brow furrowed as something came to his mind. "Th-there was one more thing he had a- a tattoo on his arm of a cartoon character. It's, uh, it's the guy who's chasing the Roadrunner-."

The doctor came back in the room at that point. He was middle aged with graying hair and soft eyes that were haunted by darker times, "Kyle?"

"Dr. Garrison," Kyle nodded at him.

"How you holding up?"

"Okay…considering…" he broke off saying no more.

"You're Kyle's doctor?" Dean asked him.

"Yes," he nodded.

Dean held up his badge. "Can I just ask you a few questions?"

After Dean's initial questioning the three started walking back to the car while he inspected Bridget's drawing. "So it's a man…not a werewolf?"

She shrugged and took the pad back. "Your guess is as good as mine. What did Kyle's doctor say about him and the other two guys?"

"Not much, they were D.O.A. at the scene. He did give me the lowdown on the Coroner's report," Dean explained.

"Let me guess," Sam said. "Their hearts were missing."

"Nope," Dean shook his head. "Chunks of their kidneys, livers, and intestines were."

"That's not werewolf behavior that's just gross," Bridget observed, face scrunched in disgust

Sam ran a hand over his face, "So, what? Demon? Attacker could've been possessed.

"Why would a Demon stop halfway through an attack?" Dean asked.

Sam thought about it before shrugging his shoulders. "Yeah, I got nothing."

"Me neither," Dean looked at Bridget. "What about you?"

She shuffled through her drawings, not finding anything but her fairytale drawings and princess settings. "I got nothing that doesn't belong in a Disney movie in here."

Dean snorted. "Yeah and happily ever after's don't happen to us."

"Sad to say we'll have to see what happens next."

* * *

That wish didn't take long. It never took long for something bad to happen for them to get their next lead. Though grateful for one, Bridget couldn't help feeling bad for the people it had to happen to since it often lead to tragedy. She found herself back at the hospital in her same suit with a different blouse. They paused halfway down the hall as two cops left the room they needed to go into. She turned, examining her drawing pad in her hand while Sam and Dean preoccupied themselves with flowers of all things. The police walked past them and once cleared they went into the room the two had previously exited.

Dr. Garrison was standing next to a young woman with disheveled blonde hair and tear streaked cheeks with dark spots under her eyes as she begged him to let her go.

"Hey, we need to observe you while the drugs still might be in your system," he told her softly.

"I have to go. I have things to do, arrangements I need to make," she said frantically.

"It can wait. Now you need to rest. Stay. Be back in a few minutes," he turned to leave and saw the three standing there. "Detectives."

"Dr. Garrison," Bridget nodded.

"What the hell is going on here?" he asked them. "My whole town is going insane."

"We'll let you know as soon as we do," Sam promised.

He nodded and left the room leaving them to question Julie Watson.

Bridget approached her cautiously, knowing the signs of someone on edge and how being as blunt or demanding as Dean could send her into an emotional uproar. "Ms. Watson? Hi. We just need to ask you a few questions if that's okay."

She closed her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Do we have to go over this again, now?"

"We'll try to be brief. Ms Watson, can you tell us how you got away?" she asked, putting her hand on the bed.

She nodded, "I didn't eat as much as Ken did, so I wasn't as out of it. And, when the old woman was... carving up Ken, I shoved her and she fell. Cracked her head on the stove. She's dead, right? I- I killed her?"

Bridget nodded, "Yeah, she's gone."

"Do you have any idea why she did this to you?" Dean asked and Bridget's lips tightened. Exactly the bluntness and emotional detachment she had expected from him.

"No! One minute she was a sweet old lady and the next she was, like, a monster," Julie breathed heavily.

"Can you remember anything else?" Sam asked.

"Um, yeah. Did you find a little girl there, by any chance?" she asked with a frown.

"A little girl?" Bridget asked confused. "At the house?"

"I thought I saw her outside the window. She just disappeared. Just vanished, into thin air."

She shared a look with the two brothers as Julie continued. "It m-must've been the drugs."

"The disappearing girl, what did she look like?" Bridget asked her.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, just in case she was really there. Every detail matters," Bridget told her.

"She had this dark, dark hair and really pale skin. She was around eight. She was a beautiful child, it was... odd to see her in the middle of something so horrible," Julie said shaking her head.

Bridget continued to draw what Julie described the girl to look like. They thanked her for her time and left with the sketch in hand.

"So we got a disappearing little girl and a crazy woman who turned witch on them," Dean said on the way to the car.

"I say we go check out this house, see what we can find in this freak show," Bridget suggested.

Sam removed his tie, "Great idea."

"And I need out of this damn skirt and back into my jeans," she said, undoing the blouse to reveal the spaghetti strap top beneath.

Dean smiled wiggling his eyebrows as she slid into the back seat. "You gonna put on a strip show."

"You peak and you'll die a lot sooner than planned," she threatened.

"Least it'll be with a smile," he grinned, pulling on his t-shirt and tossing the jacket and collared shirt in the back with her.

"Not before I know it off your face," she growled.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Can we please just go? You two always have the same sexual tension fight that I have to sit through."

"What?" Bridget balked having successfully slid her jeans on and pulled the skirt off without revealing her underwear. "There is no tension or flirting."

"We're just playing around," Dean agreed, putting the car in drive.

"Whatever you guys say," Sam snorted.

Bridget sat silent in the back, wondering if there was any merit in what Sam had said.

* * *

The old lady's house was like any other house, well kept, neatly cleaned and organized. Nothing portraying her to be a psychopathic cannibalistic serial killer. Dean finished checking the windows and doors for any traces of demon activity.

"Well there's no sign of sulfur. What you getting on the EMF?" he asked Sam.

Sam's gadget was lighting up. "Yeah, it's going nuts. Right over here by the window. There's definitely a spirit here."

"You mean something stood outside the window and watched?" Bridget said.

"Looks like," he nodded.

"What the hell do you make of that?" Dean asked them.

"Actually I do have a theory," Sam said then pressed his lips in a tight line. "Uh, sorta. Kinda goes with Bridget's drawings.

"Which is?" Dean asked and Bridget listened curious as to how any of this tied to her sketches.

"Well…it has to do with fairytales."

Bridget's eyebrows arched. "Fairytales? Really?"

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam. "Oh that's- that's nice. You think about fairy tales often?"

"No, Dean I'm talking about the murders. A guy and a girl? Hiking through the woods, an old lady tries to eat 'em? That's Hansel and Gretel. Then we got three brothers arguing over how to build houses, attacked by the Big Bad Wolf like Three Little Pigs and Bridget's been drawing fairytales for weeks now. It makes sense."

"Don't those all end happily ever after?"

"No, no. Not the originals. See the Grimm brothers stuff was kinda the folklore of it's day, full of sex, violence, cannibalism. Now, it got sanitized over the years, turned into Disney flicks and bedtime stories."

"So you think the murders are uh, what? A re-enactment? That's a little crazy," Dean said.

"Compared to what?" Bridget snorted. "The vampires and demons and poltergeist we usually hunt?"

Dean considered it, "Touché. How's the creepy ghost girl involved?"

"Umm, well, she must've been here for a reason. I'm willing to bet you top dollar she was at the construction site too," Sam bet.

"This means research, doesn't it?" Bridget asked with a pout.

Sam nodded and both Dean and her groaned with their heads down, sulking their way to the car to get to the library.

Even then it was a bust as they found nothing in any archive in the history of a little girl with a violent death. They met back with Sam at the park, walking through it as they shared information they found which on their part wasn't much.

"Well you ever hear of Lillian Bailey? She was a British medium from the 1930s?" Sam asked, revealing what he had found.

"She got a thing for fairy tales?" Dean asked.

"Nah, trances. See she'd go into these unconscious states where uhm, get this, her thoughts and actions were completely controlled by spirits."

"Think that's what this kid is doing? Sending wolfboy and grandma into trances, making them go kill-crazy?"

"Could be," he shrugged.

Dean paused, "Trances I get, but fairy tale trances? That's bizarre even for us."

A croaking noise drew their attention to a bullfrog sitting in the middle of the walkway through the park. "Yeah, you're right," Bridget said gesturing at the frog, staring at the bullfrog that wasn't normally a reptile that would get this close to humans or be out of its natural environment. "That's completely normal."

It croaked again and Dean shook his head, "All right maybe it is fairy tales. Totally messed-up fairy tales. I tell you one thing, there's no way I'm kissing a damn frog."

Sam tapped Bridget's shoulder, "Hey, check that out. It's like one of your drawings."

Across the street on a porch sat a pumpkin with two little mice sitting next to it. "This is getting stranger by the minute."

"So, it's close to Halloween," Dean suggested as they walked over to the house.

"What? D'you remember Cinderella? The pumpkin that turns into a coach and the mice that become horses?" Sam told him.

"Dude, could you be more gay?" Dean asked. Sam gave him a nonplussed look and Dean shook his head, "Nevermind don't answer that." He bent forward and picked the lock, pushing the door open. "Well, who knows, maybe you'll find your fairy godmother?"

Sam gave him a look, "Let's just check the place out."

Dean shut the door and paused, hearing a noise. He pulled out his gun, looking around the room. "Did you hear that?"

"Shh," Bridget shushed him as she heard it again.

"Help I'm in here!" a voice cried out from another room.

They hurried into the kitchen, pausing at the sight of a dark haired girl handcuffed to the oven.

"It's ok," Sam said to her. "We're here, we got you."

"You have to help me," she said panicked. "She's a lunatic."

"What happened?" Dean asked, picking the lock.

"My step mom, she just freaked out, screamed at me, beat me. Chained me up," she said in tears.

"Where is she?" Bridget asked.

"I don't know."

Bridget looked around, pausing at the kitchen door. A girl stood there, peaking in through the window. She had pale skin and long dark hair with a red head band. "Sam…Dean…"

Both looked up to see the girl staring back at hem before completely vanishing. Bridget hurried to the door, pulling it open to find the girl standing there. "Who are you?"

She just smiled at Bridget which sent a chill down her back. It wasn't a normal warm smile of a child, there was something cold and dead behind it. The girl vanished and Bridget saw the red apple sitting on the ground where she had been. She bent and picked it up as Sam came in behind her. "Where'd she go?"

"I don't know," she held up the apple. "But she left this behind."

She sat on the hood of the Impala ten minutes later, Bridget tossing the apple back and forth between hands as Cinderella was loaded into the ambulance. Sam walked over and sat next to her. "She's going to be fine," he told her.

"That's good," she nodded, staring at the apple. She tossed it to Dean.

"So…little girl…shiny red apple. I'm guessing this means something to you," Dean asked Sam.

"It's Snow White," Sam nodded.

Dean frowned, "Snow White? Ah I saw that movie. Oh the porn version anyway. There was this wicked Stepmother? Woo, she was wicked."

Bridget kicked him in the leg. "Ow! What was that for?"

"For being you," she said. "There is a wicked Stepmother. And she tries to kill Snow White with a poison apple."

He rubbed his shin, "But the apple doesn't actually kill the girl, right?"

"No. Puts her into a deep sleep, so deep it's almost like she's dead," Sam told him.

"Another trip to the hospital," Dean sighed, tossing Sam the apple.

* * *

They figured this would be easier to do since it was happening in this town and therefore would have to be in the only hospital the town had. But, again, it wasn't that simple. The nurse shook her head, "No, sorry. We don't have any comatose little girls."

"You sure?" Bridget asked.

"Totally. It's mostly old guys. And well...Callie. She's been around since before I started here," the nurse said sadly.

"Who's Callie?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, it's so sad. And poor Dr. Garrison he just won't give up on her."

"She's one of his patients?" Dean asked.

"No, she's his daughter," she said.

That caused the three to exchange a look and they thanked her, walking down the hall. They paused when they heard Garrison reading out loud and peaked in the room to see a full grown woman unconscious in the bed while Garrison sat there reading her Little Red Riding Hood. He noticed them and put down the book, heading out of the room.

"We heard about your daughter, we wanted to say how sorry we are," Bridget said.

"Thank you, I must be going."

"Oh, heading this way? We'll walk with you. How long's Callie been like that?" Dean suggested.

Sam stared at Dean with a slight shake of his head and spoke to the doctor. "We don't mean to intrude, we can't possibly understand how hard it must be for you seeing her like this."

"It's not easy. She's uh, been here since she was eight years old."

"That's when she was poisoned?" Bridget asked.

The doctor nodded slightly, clearly pained by telling the story. "Yes. Swallowed bleach. Never figured out how she got her hands on the bottle. My wife found her, uh, brought her to the ER here and I was on call."

Bridget lifted her eyebrows slightly. "You're wife was uh, was that Callie's stepmother?"

He stopped walking and looked at her in surprise. "Actually, yes. How'd you know that?"

"Lucky guess," she said.

"Well, Julie was the only mother that uh, Callie ever knew. My wife passed away last year and uh, it's just my daughter and me now. She's all I got left. Uhm, excuse me I gotta get back to work."

They nodded and he walked away. Bridget folded her arms over her chest and gave Dean a pointed look.

He rolled his eyes. "Ok. You were right. It's Snow White."

She grinned. "I love hearing I'm right, but yup. Step-mom poisons the girl, puts her into a deep sleep. What's the motive you think?"

Dean shrugged. "Could be like Mischa Barton. Sixth Sense not the O.C."

"Huh?" Sam frowned and even Bridget rolled her eyes.

"Hey, you know fairy tales, I know movies. She played the pasty ghost. You know the, uh, remember the mom had that thing you know, where you keep the kid sick so you get all the attention?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded as they continued down the hall.

"So say all these years Callie's been suffering silently because nobody knows the truth about what mommy dearest did?"

"And after all this time her spirit just gets angrier and angrier, until it finally just starts lashing out," Bridget added.

"Right. Meanwhile she has to listen to dad tell her these deranged stories about a rabid wolf or a cannibalistic old lady, it's enough to drive anybody nuts."

"OK, but how are we gonna stop her, I mean Callie's stuck here, her father's keeping her body alive," Sam pointed out.

Dean sighed. "It does make it a bit hard to burn the bones."

Bridget smacked him up the head for thinking it. "You think?"

Before Dean could say anything about the smack two EMT's came through the front door of the hospital, pushing in a gurney with an old woman on it. A doctor came by, taking over as they watched.

"OK, what's her status?"

"Seventy-two year old female, sustained multiple lacerations and puncture wounds. BP is eighty over forty and falling. Sinus tachycardia."

"Looks like she was mauled by a mad dog or, maybe a wolf?"

Bridget's eyes widened as she looked at Sam and Dean, the same look of shock on their face. "What was the last story Dr. Garrison was reading Callie?"

Sam looked grim. "Little Red Riding Hood."

* * *

Bridget paced back and forth in the hotel room, rubbing at her neck. She had never been this stressed over a case before. Usually it was simple, at least simple in their terms. Dig up a body and burn the bones, case solved. But this was different, this was a living person trapped in a coma and living the life of Snow White while putting others through terror.

"Pacing is not gonna help," Dean said from where he sat on the bed.

"It's helping me. How do we stop a living person?"

"No idea yet," Sam said closing his laptop and rubbing his face. "We're gona have to tell Dr. Garrison."

Dean snorted, "Yeah I can see that working. Gee, Dr. Garrison your comatose daughter is killing people through stories you read her, you're gonna have to pull the plug."

"It's the only shot we got," Bridget sighed.

Dean reached out and pulled her on the bed, "Stop, you're making me nervous now."

She sat up on the bed, picking up her drawing pad that was on the nightstand, "We got to tell him, Dean."

He sighed, "You're right…before she gets another story. But not before I eat."

"Dean…" Sam sighed.

"No, it can wait an hour. She just got a story not even an hour ago, she's good for now. I'm not." He patted Bridget's leg. "Want me to get you something?"

She nodded, drawing still. "Yeah, you know what I like, Dean."

He winked at her hand still on her leg, "You got it."

"Don't be perverted," she warned with a smile.

"Me? Perverted? Never. Hamburger, no onions, extra pickle, light on the mayo, add mustard. With a large fry, add ranch and a root beer," he stood up, grabbing his keys.

"Years of training paid off," she said.

"No, I just listen to you even when you think I'm not," he said.

She looked up seeing that odd look in his eyes she had noticed a few times over the years and couldn't exactly place. "Thanks, Dean."

"Yeah, not a prob," he cleared his throat. "Sammy, you wanna go for the ride since Bridget's too busy doodling.

"Uh, yeah sure," he nodded.

"We'll be right back. Don't let the Big Bad Wolf in while we're gone," Dean told her, only half joking.

"Don't worry, no one's blowing this door down," she promised.

She followed them to the door locking it behind them and closing the curtains. She cracked her fingers then rubbed the back of her neck, wondering when this would be over and how to end it and slightly wondering about the feelings she was having towards Dean and the confusion it was causing her. Her fingers slid the ring on her necklace back and forth, not sure what to think since it had gone so wrong with Sam, she couldn't go through that pain again and not with Dean when he was notorious for being…well Dean…and not when he was destined to die so soon. She swallowed the painful lump in her throat.

The lights behind her flickered, casting shadows on the door she was still staring at and the room was glowing an odd green. A low humming captivating music could be heard and Bridget slowly turned to see what it was. A spinning wheel sat spinning softly across the room, a green glow emitting from it and the music playing softly with the spin. Another fairytale was playing out in the room and Bridget was too entranced to realize the deadly situation she was in as she slowly stepped towards it in a daze.

Downstairs Dean frowned as he neared the car, he could hear a humming. "Do you hear something?" he asked with a frown.

Sam paused but shook his head, "No, what do-."

"Shhh," Dean cut him off holding up his hand. He looked around. Cars were going by on the highway, but he couldn't hear anything, nothing but the music that filled the air in a low hum.

"What is that? What's going on?" Sam asked suddenly hearing it and noticing nothing else could be heard.

Dean felt a cold chill travel down his spine as he turned glancing up the stairs. The window to their room was glowing green behind the dark curtains. "Oh God…Bridget!" He and Sam ran, heading for the staircase.

Inside, Bridget reached her hand out towards the spinning wheel, enticed by it. She stretched her fingers out towards the needle, part of her screaming back to not touch it, that this was a very bad idea. But the motion of the neon wheel and the glittering of the needle was too alluring.

"_Touch it_," the voices around her whispered sweetly through the humming. "_Touch the needle…make all the thoughts go away…all the heartache…touch the needle._"

Behind the whispering she could hear footsteps pounding up the stairs, hear the brothers calling out to her. "Bridget! Don't do it!" she heard Dean yell from down the stairs.

"Don't touch anything!" Sam yelled right after him. "Don't move!"

Her head tilted to the door, coming out of her daze a bit. Sam and Dean, her friends, the two boys she loved, coming to her rescue…just like a fairytale. Her hand dropped away. A shine caught her attention back to the spinning wheel, ignoring the pounding on the door behind her. It was glowing brighter, the needle sparkling now. "_Touch the needle…touch it…touch the needle and it'll all go away_."

Bridget moved her hand the last few inches and touched the needle with her middle finger. A gasp escaped her as a cold wave flushed through her, stealing away her vision. She felt herself sink into the darkness and heard a voice cackling as she fell, then she heard nothing at all.

"Bridget!" Sam yelled again as they reached the door.

Dean tried the doorknob hearing the whispering voice behind the door. It wouldn't budge. "Dammit!" he yelled and stepped back, kicking his foot out. It gave on the second kick, falling off its hinges.

Both brothers gasped as they came into the room, frozen in place. Bridget lay collapsed on the floor, one hand upturned, the blood visible on her finger. Dean was first to reach her, falling to his knees next to her and picking her upper body up into his arms. His free hand touching her cheek. "Bridget? Bridge, come on. Wake up…dammit, Bridget, wake up!"

A laugh filled the room, coming from the walls it seemed. "She has til midnight…midnight or else she's gone forever, no more happy endings."

The lights came back on and the spinning wheel was gone. Everything was normal except for Bridget's comatose form. "Dammit!" Dean yelled.

"Dean," Sam said slowly and his brother turned his head, still holding Bridget.

Sam slowly held up Bridget's drawing pad. The picture was of a spinning wheel and an unconscious girl on the floor; Bridget. "We got a little over an hour til midnight."

"We have to kill the bitch," Dean growled, eyes on Bridget's sleeping form.

"It won't be easy. She's in a hospital. Her dad is a doctor there."

"Well it's her or Bridget and I'll be damned even further if it's gonna be Bridget."

"What do we do?"

Dean hoisted Bridget into his arms, heading for the door. "Let's go talk to the doctor."

* * *

They managed to get in undetected by any nurses or security through the backdoor that Dean picked open. He laid Bridget down in an empty room on a bed. She looked as if she was only sleeping, her dark hair framing her face, her lips a dark red, cheeks rosy, completely peaceful, except she was trapped and stopping Callie was their only hope.

He gripped her hand tightly, "I'll be right back." With much hesitation, he left her there. Sam and Dean found the Doctor down a corridor.

"Dr. Garrison! I need to speak with you," Sam said quickly.

"Detective's. What can I do for you?"

Sam scratched his head, knowing there was no easy way to get around it. "Well, uhm. It's about Callie."

That seemed to worry him, "My daughter? What about her?"

"Umm. All right Doctor, this isn't gonna be easy."

Dean cut in, "What happened to Callie was not an accident. Your step wife poisoned her."

Sam gave him a pointed look and he shrugged. "Sorry. It's true. No easy way around it and we don't have time to sugar coat it."

"You have no idea what happened to my daughter," he started walking away. "Why would you say something so horrible to me?"

"Because we need your help," Sam told him.

"You both stay away from me, and my daughter, you understand?" He slammed Callie's door in their face.

"I don't have time for this shit," Dean growled and kicked his foot out, breaking the door and nudging it open.

Garrison looked shocked, "I'm calling security."

Dean stopped him, grabbing the phone and yanking it from the wall. "No, listen. I don't have time to do this nicely or let my brother sugar coat it, doc. If you don't listen to me more people are going to get hurt and my friend will die, because Callie is going to hurt them." He grabbed a book on the table, not surprised it was on Sleeping Beauty. "She's using these."

Garrison stared at him appalled, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Sam stepped in behind Dean, "You're going to think I'm crazy, but just understand me. Your daughter Callie is still here. She's a spirit."

He sat solemnly on her bed, "So you've seen her too."

"What?" Dean asked shocked.

"I sensed her, Callie. Her presence, her scent. I even saw her standing at foot of my bed but I never...believed it, I thought I was dreaming."

"You weren't dreaming," Sam told him. "She's trying to talk to you."

"You aren't cops are you?"

Dean shook his head, looking at his watch; ten minutes til midnight. "No. We're just guys who know this sorta thing."

"But what you said about my wife poisoning Callie, that's-."

Sam cut him off, "She told us."

"What?"

"Not in so many words, but in her own way. She told us."

"My wife loved Callie. So how is- how is that possible?"

"I don't know but it is and we got to stop her," Dean said, pressing the issue. "Look, Callie is killing people. She's angry. She's desperate, because nobody will listen to her. So you have to listen to you kid. Please, listen to her…my friends life depends on it." He pleaded, completely desperate himself.

"I'll try," the doctor nodded, seeing the look on Dean's face. He grabbed his daughter's hand in his. "It's me, Daddy. Is it true? Mommy do that to you? I know I wasn't listening before, but I'm listening now. Daddy's here. Please honey, is there something you wanna tell me?"

Sam patted Dean's arm and pointed. At the edge of the bed was the little girl. "Hey Doc…" Dean said. Garrison looked up and saw Callie standing there, staring at him. Tears welled in his eyes as he looked at her. "Is it true, sweetheart?"

The little girl nodded her head.

Tears streamed down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry, baby. But listen to me. You gotta stop what you're doing, OK? You're hurting people. I know everything now. I know the truth. It's time for you to let go. It's time for me to let you go."

The little girl smiled at him and vanished. Garrison closed his eyes and kissed the forehead of his daughter on the bed just as her heart monitors buzzed. She was gone. Callie was at rest.

Sam and Dean looked away, letting him grieve. Dean pulled on Sam's arm, glancing at the clock on the wall that was scaringly close to midnight, "We got to get to Bridget."

They hurried out of the room and down the hall to the room they left her in.

"Bridget!" Sam dashed to her side, lifting her upper body off the bed and into his arms, waiting for her to awaken. "Come on, Bridge, wake up. It's over now."

She didn't so much as twitch and Sam looked at his watch, five minutes til midnight. "Dean, she's not waking up."

"Maybe you have to kiss her," he suggested through his panic.

Sam looked at his brother in confusion, "What?"

He let out a breath of mixed emotions; panic, fear, defeat. "Kiss her, like in the fairy tales…just cuz I think they're crap doesn't mean I don't listen. You usually gotta kiss the girl to get her to wake up. True loves kiss and all that crap."

"But I'm not the one."

"You have to be the one, you're the one she loves and you love her. Now kiss her already before it's too late," Dean said. Bridget couldn't die, they needed her too much. _He _needed her even if he couldn't have her. She had kept him sane after Sam had left to college, come right into his life when he had needed her the most and when she had needed him. He couldn't lose her now.

Sam glanced down at Bridge's face and touched her cheek with his other hand. With new found resolve he bent his head and kissed her. He parted, waiting for her to awaken but nothing happened and he tried again to no avail. "It's not working," he said.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked in his own panic, moving closer to them. Bridget was still unconscious, still as pale as death.

"The kiss. It isn't working."

"How can it not? This is a freakin' fairytale. The kiss always works," he all but yelled.

"I don't…" he trailed off in thought and it dawned on him suddenly, the reason had been in front of him all along. He looked at his brother. "It's not me…"

"What? How could it not be you? It can't be Will, he's dead. It has to be you. How is this not working?"

He said it simply, "Because it's you, Dean."

His mouth fell open in shock, he shook his head, "No, no, it can't be. She loves you."

"You love her," he pointed out. "I know it. I've seen it all these years. I see how you look at her."

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to think of a lie, "Well…yeah, but-."

"And you two have been closer because…because I screwed up. You two have known each other longer. It was only right for her to fall out of love with me and into love with you. I think she's always loved you…you do it," he said.

"Sam…" he said almost in apology.

"Dean, she'll die and you'll never get your chance," he said sternly.

Dean took a deep breath and took Sam's place, shifting Bridget in his arms so her head was in the crook of his arm. Her face was pale, lips pure red, dark lashes resting against her cheeks, just like a fairytale princess, just like the girl he always loved. He bent closer to her lips. "Please don't leave me, you promised you wouldn't," he whispered and kissed her. He heard his watch beep midnight and pulled back from her.

She still didn't move and he feared they were too late, that they had been wrong about the kiss. That he hadn't been the one after all. The kiss had to be true, she had to love him just as he had to love her. She wasn't waking up…they had been wrong. He saw Sam turn his head down, leaning against the wall in defeat.

Dean leaned his head against hers, fighting the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. He lost her, after all the years together, he lost her. Not that it hadn't been the first time. She had chosen Sam and even after their break up she had still had feelings for him and there was always Will, the one person no one could compete with in her heart…but she had been alive, she had still been around. He could still joke with her and occasionally flirt. He could still share his bed with her. He could live with that, but this was like losing Sam, losing his Dad…it hurt. He'd never get too see her now, even when he died. She'd be in Heaven, he was sure of it, and he'd be in hell. It was the deal after all. She was gone forever from him and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. That hurt worse. A few tears escaped him, one falling onto Bridget's cheek as he buried his face in her hair.

A warm hand touched his face and his breath caught in his throat as he moved his head enough to look at her. Bridget's eyes were open, her warm brown ones staring up into his. She was awake, she was alive. "Dean…"

His tears continued but out of relief as he let out a laugh and hugged her tighter, "Bridget! You've alive! You're okay!"

"If you hold me this tight I won't be," she muttered and he loosened his grip enough that he wouldn't suffocate her but didn't let her go. He wasn't sure if he ever wanted to.

"Never scare me like that again," he told her.

She smiled at him, hand on his shoulder now. "I knew you'd save me. I knew you'd both come after me."

"I'll always save you," he promised her.

"And it only took a fairy tale psychopath to get you to reveal it while I was trapped in _Sleeping Beauty_. Though I think I've lived the _Beauty and the Beast_ tale for the last five years with you."

He let out a breath, "I thought we were too late…thought it wouldn't work…I thought," he looked at Sam who was smiling despite it all and shook his head in amazement still.

Her hand moved back to his face, "You thought it was Sam…"

"Well…yeah…I mean…you two had a good thing goin' and I just thought…"

"I do love Sam, but things change…and I never stopped loving you."

"Huh?"

She rolled her eyes, "You are dense."

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked.

"Why didn't _you_? And those corny flirting lines do not count," she snorted.

"So you mean…you had a thing for me."

"No," she smiled again, fingers moving across his cheek. "It's not a 'thing'. I love you."

He blinked a few times hearing the words. "Huh?"

"Yes, he's this dense," Sam sighed. "I already tried explaining it to him."

"You love me?"

"I'd be dead otherwise, which is how I know you love me," she said.

"I never said that."

She rolled her eyes, "Will you stop ruining the mood and just…oh forget it I'll do it," she said and pulled him into another kiss. This one deeper than the one that awoken her. Dean succumbed to it, giving into what he had wanted for years and feeling what he hadn't felt in so long. Love, not lust, but true actual heartfelt love. His hand caressed her face as he kissed her and hers winded in his hair. He had to be dreaming. This was too much to be real, but he never wanted to wake up.

* * *

The three stood in front of the nurses station with Dr. Garrison a while later. He smiled sadly. "I'm glad you're alright," he told Bridget.

"Thank you," she said biting her lower lip. "I'm sorry about your daughter though."

"Thank you…so it's over," he asked.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Because of you."

"Callie was the most important thing in my life. But I should've let her go a long time ago," he said with a solemn expression.

Dean nodded unsure of what to say. He patted him on the back. "See ya around, doc."

"I hope not," he muttered as they left, Dean's arm around Bridget as they approached the car.

"You know what he said? Some good advice," Dean said.

"What ? You mean I should let you go?" Sam said.

Bridget gritted her teeth at the thought of another argument erupting out of what had become a great night. "The only thing anyone is letting go of is control when we get to the hotel."

Dean's eyebrows shot up, "You mean…sex control, right?"

"Is there any other kind?" she smiled.

"You mean…after all these years of fantasizing I get to see you naked?"

She nodded, "Yeah I think that's what I mean."

Dean pressed his lips in a tight line, "Everyone in the car," he pointed at Sam. "You're getting a room next door."

Sam groaned getting in the front seat, "I'm getting a different hotel across town."

"Don't care," Dean said peeling off.

Bridget smiled in the back, glad everything was finally looking up and she was truly happy, even if there was darkness just on the horizon and something darker beyond it she sensed, but for now she was happy and for now she'd live in the moment.


	36. S3 Red Sky at Morning

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I FINALLY had a couple days off work and got my computer back from being repaired since the hinge broke. This is far from over…many more seasons to go and the storylines get deeper. Reviews are VERY welcome to motivate me to write faster.

* * *

**S 3 EP 50 RED SKY**

Bridget sat awkwardly in the backseat on the car, yes even though she was officially dating Dean she still sat in the backseat. More or less by her choice since it consisted of more leg room and she preferred sitting on the left side of the car, more room to draw since she was right handed. But she had a book open with her reading light attached to it, though she wasn't doing much reading. The silence in the car was deafening and the tension radiating off Dean was unbearable. Sam seemed oblivious to it but that was typical.

She had been cleaning the Colt the day before at the hotel. Sam had stepped out awhile ago to go to the library, meaning he was leaving so they could have sex. Dean, of course, took advantage of the situation. After a shower, Bridget decided to clean the Colt while Dean finished his shower since he had intruded on hers, swearing he wasn't going to hog the hot water again, but did just that. She had become puzzled when she opened the chamber and found a bullet missing. She had asked Dean and he was as puzzled as she was…which left only one other person: Sam. They hadn't said anything to him when he returned, but the pressure in the car was becoming too much.

Dean finally broke it, "So, I've been waiting since Maple Springs. You got something to tell me?"

"It's not your birthday…" Sam played dumb. Bridget sank further into her seat, wishing she could disappear.

"No…"

He looked confused. "Happy... Purim? Dude, I don't know. I have no idea what you're talking –"

Dean cut him off. "There's a bullet missing from the Colt. You want to tell me how that happened? I know it wasn't me or Bridget. So unless you were shooting at some incredibly evil cans... You went after her, didn't you? The Crossroads Demon. After I told you not to."

Bridget stared at the page. Yup, another argument.

"Yeah, well…" he shrugged.

"You could have gotten yourself killed," Dean yelled.

"I didn't," Sam stated the obvious.

"And you shot her!"

"She was a smartass."

"So, what? Does that mean I'm out of my deal?"

"Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact, Dean? No. Someone else holds the contract."

"Who?" Bridget asked, finally peeking her curiosity.

"She wouldn't say."

"Hence, why you shot her," she snorted, thinking she would have done the same.

"You shouldn't have done it," Dean told him.

"I shouldn't have done it? You're my brother, Dean. And no matter what you do, I'm gonna try and save you. And I'm sure as hell not gonna apologize for it, all right?"

"Dammit, Sam you-"

It was her turn. "All right! Enough! We get it. But it's done, it's over. Move on people or I swear to God the two of you will share a bed tonight and I'll sleep alone AND in the nude."

That got them both to quit talking for the rest of the ride to their new case. Bridget sat back, pleased with herself and the silence. She could finally focus on her book.

* * *

Bridget stood in her detective outfit, her hair tied back in a ponytail as she looked at the photos on the mantel of the young girl who was now dead…from drowning…in the shower. How did a healthy young woman drown in a shower? It had demon written all over it which brought them here to talk to the seventy year old woman about her niece.

The woman, Gert, frowned though her eyes twinkled when she looked at Sam. Granny apparently still had desire after all these years and liked them young, "But I don't understand. I already went over all this with the other detectives."

Bridget nodded, "Right, yes. But, see, we're with the Sheriff's Department, not the police department - different departments"

"So, Mrs. Case," Sam started.

She cut him off with a smile, "Its Ms. Case."

"Okay. Um, Ms. Case, um... you were the one who found your niece, correct"

"I came home and she was in the shower," she nodded.

"Drowned?" Sam asked.

She shrugged, "So the coroner says. Now, you tell me, how can someone drown in the shower?"

He bypassed the question, "How would you describe Sheila's behavior in the days before her death? I mean, did she seem frightened? Maybe she said something out of the ordinary?"

"Wait a minute. You're working with Alex, aren't you?" Gert asked skipping his question.

"Oh, yeah. Absolutely," Dean nodded, not knowing who she was talking about.

"Why didn't you say so? Alex has been such a comfort. But I'm sorry. I thought the case was solved."

Sam shook his head, "Well, no. No, not yet."

"I see…"

"So anyways, we were talking about your niece."

"Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat."

"A boat?" Bridget frowned, thinking back to a drawing she did recently and suddenly wondering if there was a connection. She had drawn a pirate like ship at night that resembled something out of _Pirates of the Caribbean_.

"Yes. One minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes. You think it could be a ghost ship? Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship."

Bridget sighed, it had to be the same one. "Could be…"

"You let me know if there's anything else I can do for you," she smiled, tracing a finger down Sam's arm. Bridget and Dean tried not to laugh. "Anything at all."

They left the house and walked along the dock, staring out at the ocean.

"What a crazy, old broad," Dean snorted.

"Why? Because she believes in ghosts?" Sam asked.

"Look at you sticking up for your girlfriend? You cougar hound."

"Bite me," he mumbled.

"Not if she bites you first. So, who's this Alex? We got another player in town?" Bridget asked.

"Maybe, Maybe not. Doesn't change our job."

"And what looked like a ghost ship, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, and it makes sense. I drew one a couple nights ago. Thought it was from watching too many Jack Sparrow films but looks like we got a Black Pearl on our hands," Bridget said.

"That connects it then," Sam said. "It's not the first one sighted around here, either."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Every 37 years, like clockwork, reports of a vanishing three-mast clipper ship out in the bay. And every 37 years, a rash of weirdo, dry-land drownings."

"So, whatever's happening is just getting started," Dean stated, looking out over the ocean and draping his arm around Bridget's shoulders.

"Yup."

"What's the lore?" Bridget asked, enjoying the feel of Dean next to her.

"Well, there are apparitions of old wrecks sighted all over the world. The S.S. Violet, the Griffin, the Flying Dutchman -almost all of them are death omens."

"So, you see the ship and then a few hours later, you pucker up and kiss your ass goodbye?" Dean asked.

"Basically."

"Awesome," Bridget nodded. "What's the next step?"

"We gotta I.D. the boat."

"That shouldn't be too hard. I mean, how many three-mast clipper ships have wrecked off the coast?"

"I checked that too actually. There are 150."

"Wow," Bridget said with a whistle.

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

Dean hung his head. "Shit…"

"We better get working on it," Bridget said and they slowly made their way back to the car…except the spot was empty where the Impala had been.

Dean's eyes widened as he looked around, "This is where we parked the car, right?"

"Yeah," Bridget nodded, confused.

"Did you feed the meter?" Sam asked, looking around as his brother panicked.

"Yes, I fed the meter. Sam, where's my car? Somebody stole my car!"

"Calm down," Sam told him.

"I am calmed down! Somebody stole my ca—" he started hyperventilating and Bridget put her hand on his arm.

"Whoa. Babe, calm down. It's okay."

A voice behind her made her cringe and her stomach bubble in anger, "The '67 Impala? Was that yours?" The accent gave her away.

She turned to see Bella standing there, lethal and gorgeous as ever with a smug smile on her face that Bridget so desperately wanted to wipe from her face.

Dean's eyes narrowed on her, "Bella…"

"I'm sorry. I had that car towed."

"You WHAT?" Now Dean was pissed and though Bridget wouldn't ever promote hitting a woman, she would let Dean hit this one.

"Well, it was in a tow-away zone," she said smugly.

"No, it wasn't," Bridget hissed.

Her eyes shifted to her and Bridget felt angrier, "It was when I was done with it."

"What do you want?" Sam asked.

"Just out yachting."

"You're Alex. You're working with that old lady," Bridget pieced together.

"Gert's a dear old friend," she said.

Dean snorted, "Yeah, right. What's your angle?"

She waved her hand in dismissal, "There's no angle. There's a lot of lovely old women like Gert up and down the eastern seaboard. I sell them charms, perform séances so they can commune with their dead cats."

"It's all a con," Bridget shook her head.

"Oh, the comfort I provide is real."

"How do you sleep at night?" Sam said in disgust.

"On silk sheets, rolling naked in money. Really, Sam. I'd expect the attitude from him, but you?"

"You shot me!" he reminded her.

She huffed, "I barely grazed you."

Bridget interjected. "You don't know what's going on here. This ghost ship thing, it's real."

She nodded, brushing the hair from her face with her free hand, "I'm aware. Thanks for telling Gert the case wasn't solved, by the way."

"It isn't," she repeated.

"She didn't know that. Now the old bag's stopped payment and she's demanding some real answers. Look... just stay out of my way before you cause any more trouble. I'd get to that car if I were you... before they find the arsenal in the trunk. Ciao," she smiled and walked away.

Dean looked at Bridget with a pout. "Can I shoot her?"

"Not in public," she mumbled and started their walk to the hotel.

* * *

They managed to get the car out of impound early that morning and heard the news while at the station that another person had drowned in their bathtub. Highly doubting it was a coincidence the three left, only pausing to change into their detective gear before showing up at the house where Mr. Warren was. To no surprises thy saw Bela's car there.

"Does she ever give up," Bridget mumbled.

"That's an easy no," Sam snorted.

"I might shoot her after all," she said walking up the pathway.

"No fair! I had called dibs," Dean told her.

"I'm a girl, it won't look as bad if I do it."

They interrupted her as a reporter questing Mr. Warren. Dean flashed his badge, "Ma'am, I

think this man's been through quite enough. You should go."

A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. "But I just have a few more questions."

"No, you don't," Sam said sternly.

She smiled at Mr. Warren. "Thank you for your time." She made sure to shoulder Bridget on her way out. She bit her tongue to keep from grabbing Bela by her hair and pulling her back.

Dean patted her shoulder sensing her irritation and spoke to Mr. Warren. "Sorry about that, they're like cockroaches."

"So," Sam cut in getting to the point in case. "We heard your brother saw the ship?"

"Yeah," the man nodded. "That's right."

"Did he said what it looked like?" Bridget asked.

He frowned slightly, trying to recall, rubbing his forehead as he thought. "It was, uh... like the old yankee clippers. A smuggling vessel. The rakish topsail, a barkentine rigging. Angel figurehead on the bow."

Bridget raised an eyebrow in surprise, "That's a lot of detail."

"We were diving, I saw it too," he said.

Sam glanced out the window, noticing Bela speaking to the cops and pointing at the house just outside. He nudged Dean and tapped Bridget's shoulder. They both took notice.

"Oh, okay. Well we'll be in touch soon," she told him quickly as they headed out the back and snuck back to the car.

"I am going to punch her so hard first chance I get," she fumed as they stopped in the woods area of the town.

"Now, now, honey. We all want to hit her," Dean patted her shoulder and popped open the trunk, handing her a shot gun to load.

"I see you got your car back," an irritating British voice said from behind.

Dean saw Bridget's jaw tighten as she looked thoughtfully at the shot gun, getting the same idea he did. "Do you really want to come near me with a loaded shot gun?" he asked Bela.

She tilted her head with a smile Bridget wanted to knock off, "Now, now. Mind your blood pressure. Why are you even still here? You have enough to I.D. the boat."

"That guy back there saw the ship," Sam told her.

"Yeah? And?" she said not getting the point of helping another person.

"And he's going to die, so we have to save him."

"How sweet," she said nonplussed.

"You think it's funny?" Bridget asked her, anger rising every minute.

She looked at them blankly. "He's cannon fodder. He can't be saved in time, and you know it."

"Yeah, well, see, we have souls, so we're gonna try," Dean explained to her.

"Well, I'm actually going to find the ship and put an end to this. But you have fun," she started to turn away.

Dean called out to her, "Hey, Bela, how'd you get like this, huh? What, did daddy not give you enough hugs or something?"

Bridget saw her tense. Dean had gotten to her. She turned her head and snapped back, "I don't know. Your daddy give you enough? Don't you dare look down your nose at me. You're not better than I am."

"Ohh, far better than you. We help people," Bridget said coldly.

"Come on. You do this out of vengeance and obsession. You're a stone's throw from being a serial killer. Whereas I, on the other hand, I get paid to do a job and I do it. So, you tell me - which is healthier?"

"Bela, why don't you just leave? We've got work to do," Sam told her, feeling the tension.

"Yeah. You're 0 for 2. Bang-up job so far," she turned and left this time, leaving them to try and save one innocent person from a ghost ship. How they planned on doing this? None of them knew.

* * *

Back in her denim shorts and tank top, Bridget felt more comfortable as she sat in the car with Sam and Dean, retying her calf high boots. They were parked outside Peter Warren's house, waiting to see if anything happened. Sam had his laptop open in the passenger seat. "Anything good?" she asked him.

Sam sighed with a shake of his head at the files he had opened, "No, not really. I mean, both brothers are Duke University grads. No criminal record. I mean, a few speeding tickets. They inherited their father's real estate fortune six years ago."

"How much?" Dean asked.

"112 million," Sam said.

Dean whistled, "Nice life."

"Yeah. I mean, nice, clean, aboveboard. So why did they see the ship? Why Sheila, too? What do they all have in common?"

"Maybe nothing."

"There's always something," Sam said and looked over his shoulder at Bridget. "You get anything?"

She opened her sketch book, "Just a drawing I did a week ago of a ghost ship. Thought it was because I had Jack Sparrow on the brain, but apparently this has nothing to do with dreams of Johnny Depp whisking me away on the Black Pearl to shine his sword," she sighed.

Dean frowned at her, "Really? Johnny Depp? You couldn't pick someone manlier than me?"

"That is manlier than you," she snorted at him with a smile.

"I'll show you a sword later and rock your boat," he grinned back.

Sam groaned leaning his head on the window, "Ohh God, let the ship kill me next."

"Hey! You!" a voice said and they could see Peter coming towards them from his house.

"Looks like we've been spotted," Dean said scrambling out of the car. Bridget and Sam followed, approaching the upset man. "What are you guys doing? You watching me?"

Sam put his hands up, "Sir, calm down, please."

"You guys aren't cops! Not dressed like that. Not - not in that crappy car."

That got Dean as his eyes widened in offense. "Hey! No need to get mean."

Bridget butt in, "We are cops, okay? We're undercover. We're here because we think you're in danger."

"From who?" he asked perplexed and still upset.

"If you just settle down, we'll talk about it," Sam promised.

"Look, you guys just stay away from me!" he started heading back to his house and unlocked his car.

"Wait!" Bridget yelled after him.

"We're trying to help you, moron," Dean called out.

He started to drive off but made it as far as the front of his house before his car died.

"Oh, that can't be good," Bridget mumbled.

"Nope, get the salt guns," Sam said and he and Bridget ran to the car while Dean ran to the Impala. Bridget stopped at the driver's side and her eyes widened. A sea captain ghost sat in the passenger seat, cold eyes staring at Peter with a deathly look on his face as Peter choked on water in his car.

"Peter!" Sam shouted as the man collapsed against the steering wheel, not responding.

The ghost stared at them with a smile as Dean approached. "Duck!"

Sam grabbed Bridget pulling her down as Dean fired, hitting the ghost. Bridget stared at the lock and felt the heat in her rise as it popped open. She was getting better at using it. Sam yanked the door open, grabbing Peter out, He checked his pulse and looked up at Bridget and Dean with a shake of his head. Dean growled in frustration and kicked the door.

"Now what?" Bridget asked quietly.

To that, no one had the answer.

* * *

Bridget lay on her stomach on the bed, reading a book, her sketch book opened near her as she drew an evil looking Santa Claus. She had pulled out the book to distract her from the thought of them going against an evil Santa. She had ghost ships to deal with at the moment and couldn't handle or process the thought of a story book character come to life to eat people.

There was a knock on the door and Bridget tensed. They weren't expecting anyone. Her hand slid to the gun next to her, keeping it hidden under her book as Sam answered the door slowly, shoulders relaxing as he opened it the rest of the way to reveal Bela.

"Dear God, are you three actually squatting in this hell hole?" she asked stepping inside carefully as if the floor would eat away her designer shoes. "So, how'd things go with Peter last night?"

Bridget's hand tightened on the handle of the gun as Dean and Sam looked down at the ground. "That well, huh."

"I swear to God, if you say I told you so, Bela, I'm gonna start swinging."

"The way you have your hand on that gun, I think you'll start shooting first. You can put it away, it's just me."

Bridget brought it up, and held it casually in her hand. "Exactly why I have it out."

"Look, I think the four of us should have a heart to heart."

"That's assuming you have one," Dean said, sitting on the bed near Bridget.

"Dean, please... I'm sorry about what I said before, ok? I come bearing gifts."

"Like what?" Sam asked.

"I've ID'd the ship. It's an old merchant sailing vessel," she dusted a part of the desk and leaned against it. "Quite a colourful history. In 1859 a sailor was accused of treason. He was tried aboard a ship in a kangaroo court and hanged. He was 37."

Sam nodded, folding his arms across his chest. "Which would explain the 37 year cycle."

"Aren't you a sharp tack," she smiled at him making Bridget want to hurl and went through the file she had in her hand. "I have a photo here," she handed it to Sam.

Sam held it out to Dean and Bridget looked at it. "Isn't that the ghost from last night?"

"You saw him?" Bela asked surprised.

"Yeah, that's him. Except he was missing a hand," Bridget nodded, getting a closer look and sitting up on her knees.

"His right hand," Bela asked quietly.

"How'd you know?" Sam asked.

"The sailor's body was cremated, but not before they cut off his hand to make a hand of glory," she sighed.

"A hand of glory, I think Bridget gave me one of those last week," Dean chuckled until Bridget elbowed him.

Sam looked at him seriously. "Dean, the right hand of a hanged man is a serious cult object and is very powerful."

"So they say," Bela nodded.

"None of this explains why he's choosing these victims," Bridget said.

Bela sighed irritated. "I'll tell you why, who cares. Find the hand, burn it and stop the bloody thing."

"I don't get it, why are you telling us this."

"Because I know where the hand is," she told them, biting her lower lip.

"Where?" Dean asked, standing up.

"At the Sea Pines Museum, it's a carp bit of maritime history. But I need help."

Sam looked at her warily. "What kind of help?"

"Getting into the ball."

Bridget's eyes widened. "A ball?"

"Yes. I imagine you guys have tuxedo's in your arsenal of clothing and I happen to have two very pretty dresses in my car for us girls."

"Why would I want to wear anything you brought."

"Because I have taste and you have jean skirts which would work on a street corner picking up rich married men but not at something as high class as his event."

Bridget's hand tightened on the gun and Dean put his arm around her. "Sounds like a plan. You'll be Sam's date Bela. We should be getting ready," he said and Bridget gawked as Bela left the room to get the dresses.

"You're joking, right? A ball, Dean."

He smiled at her. "Why not? I owe you a classy night besides eating McDonalds and watching Redbox films."

She looked at Sam for support, hoping he'd at least protest being Bela's date. He shrugged his wide shoulders. "Let's give it a shot, Bridge. It's better than pretending to be cops." He walked past her into the bathroom to change.

She shook her head as Bela came back in, somehow already in her red sparkling gown, handing her a black bag with a dress inside it. "Go clean up. Sam and I will meet you two there."

With a glower, she walked into the other room to change. Part of her dreading this and the other half, the larger half was giddy at the thought of attending a formal event.

* * *

Dean sat on the couch, glancing at his watch for the hundredth time. Bridget was still in the bathroom getting ready. Had kicked him out over an hour ago to put her dress on and fix her hair and still she wasn't finished. "Bridget, you almost ready? I literally don't have all year. Bela and Sam are already there by now."

"Not okay with this!" Bridget called out from behind the door. "I don't feel comfortable."

"Does the dress fit?"

"Yeah, it fits."

"Then what's the problem, babe?"

"I'm just…I'm not used to looking like this…"

"Well, come out here. Let me see," he said and to his surprise he heard the door open. He shot to his feet as she appeared, eyes wide at the sight of her.

Her dress was backless, hooking behind her neck in a halter style. It fit perfectly on her, hugging ever curve and dropping in sparkling material to the floor where her heeled feet could be seen through the see through bottom layer. Her hair was up in a twist with pieces hanging down in spiral curls in what he guessed was carefully picked places given the curl and light make up brought out her eyes and lips.

"What do you think?" she asked with a small smile.

"I…ughh…you look…," he couldn't seem to find the words. "You look amazing."

"We better get there," she said gesturing to the door and picking up her clutch. "Sam has work to do with Gert and I really, really don't want to miss this."

"You're right," he said holding the car door open for her. "It'd be wrong not to watch Sam be embarrassed."

"Ten bucks says she cops a feel on his ass," she snorted.

"You're on."

The arrived fifteen minutes later and got upturned looks at the fact they drove an Impala and not a Ferrari. They found Bela over by the catering table smiling amusingly into a glass of champagne as she watched Sam with Gert. To her utter disproval, she and Dean moved over to Bela and stood with her.

Bela raised her eyebrow at Bridget. "I'm impressed. You clean up very well, Bridget."

She smiled coldly and grabbed a glass drinking half of it to numb herself from her company. "Thanks. How long has Sam been smooching his date?"

"Since we got here. She latched on him and hasn't let go."

Sam had spotted them and pried himself loose from Gert, his face serious as he approached them. "Exactly how long do you expect me to entertain my date?"

"As long as it takes," Bela told him.

"I thought you were my date," he told her.

She shrugged. "She has a fascination with you, dear. Now play along."

"Look, there's security all over this place, alright, this is an uncrashable party without Gert's invitation, so..." he gestured her way.

"We can crash anything, Dean."

"But this is so much more entertaining," Bridget smiled.

"You know there are limits to what I'll do, right?"

Dean nudged her, "Oh, look. He's playing hard to get."

"It's so cute," she agreed. She turned Sam around and gave him a push towards Gert. "Give us the details in the morning."

She looked at Dean. "Should we get to work on getting upstairs?"

He glanced at the stairs then over to the band. "In a minute. I'll be right back."

He stepped away and she frowned. "What's he up to?"

"Who knows?" Bela shrugged, watching the stairs. "A lot of security here. Need to figure out a way to get upstairs."

"We will. I'm sure it's possible."

Dean was reproaching her, a serious look on his face and he smiled. "Dance with me?" Dean asked, holding his hand out to her once he got back from the band.

"What? You don't like to dance, especially slow dance," she snorted with a frown.

"I think I'll make an exception to this song," he said. The music began and Bridget's frown disappeared slowly. Her eyes widened a bit and her lips parted into a soft touched smile. The keys of the piano started the song and she looked at Dean in dismay as Celine Dion's voice came from the speaker softly. "_Tale as old as time…"_

"Beauty and the Beast…" she said in awe.

"Dance with me," he said again and this time she slipped her hand into his. He pulled her closer to him, moving them to the floor, his hands moving to her waist while hers went around his shoulders, a smile on her face and surely reaching her eyes. He never ceased to surprise her with his caring romantic side. He spun her out on the big crease in the song and brought her back to him.

"You amaze me," she whispered to him.

He grinned slyly. "All part of my charm."

"It's bitter sweet and strange finding you can change," she said with the song to him.

He chuckled softly as the song slowed down and leaned his forehead against hers. "Only for you, but don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold," his grin softened. "I love you."

"I love you too," she said and kissed him with a soft passion that held promise for later as the song ended. She glanced to her left and tapped Dean's shoulder, pointing at an agitated Sam and Gert who had her hand firmly on his ass.

"Dammit," he mumbled, pulling a ten out of his wallet.

She plucked it from him, tucking it in her top. "Thank you."

"We got a lot of security. They're not going to let us just walk up there."

"Sure they will," she smiled at him. "Play along."

Dean only had time to frown as Bridget groaned and fell. He caught her as a guard approached.

"Everything alright, sir?"

"My wife, she had a little too much champagne," he told them as she groaned again. "Is there any where she can lay down until she feels better?"

"Right this way," the guard nodded. Dean swept Bridget into his arms, giving Sam an okay nod at his concerned face. The guard let them into a room and Bridget sat up the minute he left.

"You could have warned me," he told her.

"No fun in that. So it has a glass case wire alarm. You go get it, I'll wait in the room in case the guard comes to check on us."

He nodded, "I'll be right back."

Bridget sat on the bed waiting for Dean, fiddling with the edges of her dress. She had to admit, this was the easier of the cases they worked and one of the classier. It was better than being on the movie set or playing a cop as they usually did. The door swung open and Dean shut it quickly and quietly. She stood, moving to him about to ask him what was going on when he pulled her to him and kissed her quickly. There was a knock on the door and he pulled away leaving her breathless and flushed.

"Tell him we need a minute, it's the guard. Saw him coming up the stairs as I came down the hall," he moved her to the door.

"Sir? Ma'am? Everything alright in there?"

Bridget cracked the door open, peeking out, face flushed. "Hi."

"Feeling better, I see," he said.

"Much, thank you."

"So if you're done with the room…"

"Ohh…can we have another minute," she asked coyly.

"Uhhh…sure," he nodded and walked away.

She closed the door, leaning against it. "You could have told me."

"Where's the fun in that," he teased back.

"Did you get the hand?" she rolled her eyes.

Dean pulled it out of his jacket pocket. "You bet."

Bela bumped into Dean, "Watch where…oh it's you two? Thanks for letting me in on the plan," she said with a stern look.

"No time," Bridget said. "Besides it was easier without you in the way."

"Did you get it?" Bela asked.

"Yes."

"Let me see."

Dean made a noise. "Ha. No."

"Fine…I'll meet you all at the cemetery." She left with a turn of her head.

Sam approached them next, looking flustered. "You got it right? Tell me I didn't get groped all night by Mrs. Havisham for nothing."

"I got it," Dean nodded.

"Let me see," Sam asked.

Dean reached into his inner jacket and frowned. A look of realization crossed his face and his jaw set tight. "Oh, I'm gonna kill her."

Bridget rubbed the bridge of her nose. Of course this would happen to them. "Tell me she didn't bump and grab."

"We better find her," Dean said and they headed for the door.

After an hour of driving around and no sign of her they went back to the house, sitting in the living room. Bridget folded her legs under her, glad to be back in her jean skirt but partially missing the dress. She was more irritated at the moment to think of how great the night had been. "You know what, your right. I'm not gonna kill her, I think slow torture is the way to go."

"You need to relax," Sam told Bridget.

Dean snorted, putting a hand over his eyes. "Relax, oh yeah, I'll relax. I can't believe she did this again to us."

"You," Sam corrected.

"What?" Bridget asked, eyes snapping to him.

"I…I mean she got one over on you, Dean. Not us."

"Thank you! Very helpful," Dean growled.

There was a loud knock on the door and Bela could be heard through the door. "Hello, could you open up?"

"Give us one good reason not to shoot your stupid ass," Bridget called out swinging the door open as she flooded inside.

"Listen I can explain," she said in a hurry, holding her hands up. "I sold it, I've had a buyer lined up since I knew it existed."

"So you used me and Dean to get it," Bridget cracked her knuckles. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy rearranging your face."

"I needed a cover, you were convenient."

"Not helping," Bridget warned her, stepping closer.

Sam put a hand on her arm pulling her back, "Look you sold it to a buyer, just go buy it back."

"It's halfway across the ocean, I can't get it back in time," she said in defeat.

"In time for what?" Dean asked.

"What's going on with you Bela, you look like you've seen a ghost?" Sam asked.

A smile played on Bridget's face as it dawned on her. "Or a ghost ship."

She nodded, sagging onto the couch. "I saw the ship."

"You what?" Dean repeated in disbelief. Then shook his head with a chuckle. "Wow, you know, I knew you were an immoral thieving con artist bitch but just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't get any lower ."

"What are you talking about?" she asked the three in confusion.

Sam explained, "We figured out the spirits motive, this is the captain of our ship. The one who hung our ghost boy."

"Yeah, and?"

Bridget folded her arms, "So they were brothers, Cain and Able. So now, our spirit, he's going after a very specific kind of target, people who've spilled their own families blood. See first there was Shelia who killed her cousin in a car accident and then the Warren brothers, who murdered their father for the inheritance and now you."

"My God," she gasped, putting a hand to her mouth.

Dean put his feet up on the table. "So who was it Bela? Hmmm who'd you kill, was it daddy? Little sis maybe?"

She glared at him. "It's none of your business."

"No, your right. Well have a nice life, you know whatevers left of it," he grabbed his keys and gestured at Sam and Bridget. "Let's go."

"You can't just leave me here," she cried stunned.

"Watch us," Bridget said with a snort.

"Please," she clutched the arm of the couch. "I need your help."

"Our help? Now how could a few losers possibly help you with?" Dean asked, pausing.

"Okay, so I'm a bitch."

"That's not why you're gonna die," Sam told her.

"What did you do, Bela?" Bridget asked sternly.

"You wouldn't understand, no one did," she shook her head then stood up. "Never mind, I'll just do what I've always done, I'll deal with it myself."

"You do realize you just sold the one thing that could save your life," Sam reminded her.

"I'm aware."

"But, it may not be the only thing," Sam said.

"What do you have in mind, Sam?" Bridget asked.

"We need to get to the cemetery," he said.

She made a face. "I was afraid you'd say that."

* * *

The graveyard was dark and deserted as Sam made his circle with blood and candles, his latin spell book open in his hands as he stood in it.

Bela wrapped her arms around herself. "Do you think this is going to work?"

"Probably not," Dean shook his head.

A storm suddenly started coming down. Bridget sighed, soaking wet. "Ohhh, this can't be good," she shouted over the wind and rain.

"Sammy, read faster!" Dean yelled and a second later was thrown back to the ground by a force.

Bridget stood near Bela, looking around with her shot gun but seeing nothing. Her necklace flared on her neck and she turned in time to see the handless ghost right in front of her. He stared at her and moved his one hand, she went crashing to the ground with an "oomph".

She looked up in time to see him standing in front of Bela, hand on her chest as she started coughing up water. He stopped suddenly as another ghost appeared, his brother. The handless ghost stared at him, an angry look set across his handsome features. "You…you hanged me!"

"I'm sorry," the older ghost apologized as Dean crawled towards Bridget and they made their way to a gasping Bela, sitting near her in the soaked grass.

"Your own brother!"

"I'm so sorry," he apologized as his brother charged at him. He broke through him and they disappeared in an electrical charge. The rain suddenly stopped and Bridget stood up, helping Bela up.

"Is it over?" she asked.

Sam nodded, "Yeah…he needed to see his brother. The person he was mad at for killing him. His own family."

"Nice thinking," Bridget sighed and looked her rain soaked clothes. "Of course, it could have been done in a drier matter."

"Where's the fun in that," Dean said sarcastically with a smile.

* * *

They finished packing the next morning in the house they had stayed in. Bridget put away her sketch book and paused, pulling an old one out of her back pack and flipping through it to stop on that drawing from years ago…when Will had died along with her brother and his family. The thought of the ghost ship haunted her still as it dragged up the memories she had buried away. She twisted the rig on her necklace as Dean came in the room.

"Hey, you almost ready?" he paused, seeing the sketch book and the drawing she was staring at. "What's wrong?"

"If the ghost ship came after people who killed their family then why didn't it want me?"

He put his hands on her shoulders, "What are you talking about?"

Her eyes never left the drawing, "I was there that night. I watched Derek die. I had seen it happen. I had seen their deaths. So why not me? Why am I not guilty?"

"Hey," he took the drawing pad from her hands and closed it, putting his hands on her face so she'd look at him. "There was nothing you could do, whether you saw it or not, it was going to happen. Will stopped you from trying to get to Derek because he knew you'd die too. And Will saved you from being killed by Lilith. None of it was your fault and the ghost knew that, so should you."

Her eyes glittered with tears, "I wish…I wish I could have stopped it…I wish I could stop it all…I wish I could save the people I love."

Dean knew she meant him in that sentence. He hugged her, "I know. I know, Bridge."

"It's not fair, Dean."

"I know."

She pulled back, "I'm going to find a way."

He just nodded, knowing there wasn't one. He'd be in hell this time next year and nothing could stop it. "Let's get going."

She put her old drawing pad in her back pack and carried her newer one. She had an itch to draw and wasn't sure if she'd like what she was going to see.

Bela was standing in the living room. "You three should learn to lock your doors, anyone could just barge in."

"Anyone did," Bridget snorted. "Have you come to say goodbye or thank you?"

"I've come to settle affairs... giving the spirit what he really wanted. His own brother. Very clever, Sam... so here. It's ten thousand, that should cover it," she tossed them each a wad of cash. I don't like being in anyone's debt."

"So ponying up ten grand is easier for you than a simple thank you? You are so damaged," Dean said, sliding the money into his jacket.

"Takes on to know one," she headed for the door. "Goodbye."

"She's got style, you gotta give her that," Sam said as she left.

"You're going to make me puke. And of you start crushing on _her_. I _will_ punch you in the face," Bridget threatened and headed out the front door to the car.

"You know, we don't know where this money's been," Sam pointed out as they got in the car.

"No, but I know where it's going," he laughed and handed Sam the map that had a circle on it.

Sam rolled his eyes, "Seriously, Dean. Atlantic City."

"Hell yeah, play some roulette. Always bet on black."

Bridget rolled her eyes, "You're seriously going to blow your three thousand on gambling?"

"Yeah, what are you going to do?"

"I need new clothes and a new drawing pad."

"Anything in the sketch book of interest?" Dean asked, driving.

She thought of the evil Santa. "Yeah, you can say that. But I don't think we'll bump into it just yet."

"Do we even want to know?" Sam asked.

"It involves a cannibalistic Santa."

They were both quiet as they thought it over. "Yeah, it can wait," Dean said and turned up AC/DC on the stereo as they headed towards Atlantic City and onto the next case.


	37. S3 A Supernatural Christmas

**A/N: Sooo sorry for the delay. I was distracted writing chapters for later seasons since I was rewatching season 4 and 5, which was getting ahead of myself since I'm not done with season 3 yet. Hopefully the next segment won't take me as long to post. Again, I own nothing and Bridget was thought up of from seeing YouTube videos of Brooke from OTH added in so smoothly it was believable that I created Bridget to mirror her with different motives and backstory. Enjoy. Reviews welcome.  
**

**S3 EP52 A SUPERNATURAL XMAS**

It was always a nice neighborhood, Bridget noted as she stood outside the two story house with the white picket fence to match. It was never a bad neighborhood in the bad part of town that these things happened in. The husband never was mysteriously murdered in those places, just the nice suburban home areas. It made her glad she didn't currently live in one yet she chuckled internally at the thought that both her and Dean had come from those same neighborhoods and had faced the same situation. Supernatural deaths had occurred. She liked to think the people they helped recovered from it, but from her own experience she knew those memories would linger forever in the back of their minds and things would never be the same again.

She looked back at the woman they were interviewing whose husband had died. Middle aged, pretty with only slight wrinkles at the corner of her eyes to give it away. Though after this she was sure she'd age another five years. Dean stood outside with her in their best detective gear, suits and ties for the boys, her pant suit for her with heels. Sam was currently inside trying to decide what it was that had done this in the realm of their possibilities.

"So you didn't see anything?" Dean asked again to clarify.

She stood there with one hand on the back of her neck, looking tired as she shook her head, "No, my daughter and I were in our beds…Mike was downstairs decorating the tree. I heard a thump on the roof and then Mike started screaming…now I'm talking to the FBI…he was just…gone."

"The doors were locked?" Bridget asked her. "No sign of forced entry?"

"That's right."

"Does anyone else have a key?" Dean asked.

"My parents…but they're in Florida."

Sam came out of the house then with a nod at them and smiled softly at the woman, "Thanks for letting me have a look around, Mrs. Walsh. I think we, uh, got just about everything we need. We're all set."

Dean flipped his pocketbook closed, "We'll be in touch."

"Agents…" she called them back before they got three steps.

They paused to look at her, "The police said he might have been kidnapped…"

Bridget felt a pang on sympathy at the woman's hope that he was still alive. But even as she saw Sam's adam's apple bob up and down, she knew he had found something that said otherwise and had already guessed that much. "Could be…" Bridget said.

Tears sprang to the woman's eyes. "Then why haven't the kidnappers called. O-or or demanded a ransom? Its three days till Christmas. What am I supposed to tell our daughter?"

"We're very sorry," she told her and walked back to the car with the boys following.

"Did you find anything?" Dean asked Sam once they were out of earshot.

"Presents, mistletoe," he fished a little baggy out of his pocket and held it up for them to see. "This."

Bridget stared at the bloody tooth in the bag. "Where did you find that?"

"Chimney along with traces of splattered blood."

"No way a man fits up a chimney. It's too narrow," Dean calculated.

"Not in one piece," Bridget sighed.

"Okay…so if Dad goes up the chimney…"

"We need to find out who dragged him up there," Sam finished the thought as they got into the car.

* * *

A short drive later and they were back at the hotel in more comfortable clothing doing research on their computers. In other words, Bridget and Sam were doing the majority of the research while Dean had stepped out to get burgers leaving the book work to the nerds. He came back through the door with the greasy bags and set them on the table by the bed.

"So was I right?" he asked, tossing the keys down and sitting across from Bridget at the desk near Sam. "Is it the serial killing chimney sweep?"

Bridget rolled her eyes, "Yeah, Dean. It's Dick Van Dyke."

"Who?"

Sam stared at him as blankly as Bridget did and spoke first, "Mary Poppins."

"Who's she?"

"You gotta be kidding me," Bridget said shock. "Come on…never mind," she sighed deciding it'd be a losing battle of the wits and Dean was anything but prepared.

"Well if all you got is Mary Poppins, I got a little more. It turns out that Walsh is the second guy in town grabbed out of his house this month," Dean informed them.

"Really?"

"Don't know. Witnesses said they heard a thump on the roof. So, what the hell do you think we're dealing with?"

"Actually, I have an idea," Sam said drumming his fingers on the table.

"What is it?"

"It's crazy," he warned.

"We've dealt with crazy," Bridget reminded him.

"Evil Santa," he said and smiled as if to apologize for how crazy it sounded.

Dean paused for a moment, taking a drink of his shake. "Yup, that's crazy."

Sam nodded, "Yeah… I mean, I'm just saying that there's some version of the anti Claus in every culture," he turned his computer around to show them the pictures on the screen. "You got Belsnickel, Krampus, Black Peter. Whatever you want to call it, there's all sorts of lore."

"Saying what?"

"Saying back in the day Santa's brother went rogue and now he shows up around Christmas time, instead of bringing presents, he punishes the wicked."

"By hauling their asses up chimneys?"

"Yeah, for starters."

"So, this is your theory, huh? Santa's shady brother?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"Well, I'm just saying that's what the lore says."

"Santa doesn't have a brother. There is no Santa."

"I could be wrong," Sam shrugged.

Bridget had been quietly staring at the page Sam had shown them, in disbelief at the pictures. She laughed dryly. "Damn…I don't think you are though." She shook her head. Her attention had been grabbed since the words 'evil Santa'.

"Why do you say that?" Sam asked her.

Bridget mumbled a curse under her breath and grabbed her sketch book.

"What is it?" Sam asked her.

She rubbed her eyes with one hand, flipping through the pages in her book, "Evil Santa…you had to say evil Santa…"

"I was kidding," Dean told her and she gave him a stern look. "What?"

She cursed again, trying to find the page. The two brothers warily eyed each other at her odd behavior.

She stopped on a page and with a defeated sigh handed the book to Dean. He took it and his eyebrows went up. Sam leaned over the table to look at it, "Didn't you show us this a month or so ago?"

"Yup…looks like this one is our next case."

"A cannibalistic Santa?" Dean snorted and rolled his eyes, handing it back. "Why not? We already did fairy tales? Plus it makes sense."

"How?" Bridget asked, curious to see how any of this made sense at all. Demons and vampires were one thing, but Santa's evil twin was different.

"I did a little digging. Turns out both victims visited the same place before they got snatched," he said.

"Where?" Sam asked. Dean only grinned in response and Bridget knew that was a bad thing.

* * *

Bridget couldn't have imagined it was this bad. She'd been dragged to bad places. Haunted houses, asylums, the circus, the back lot in Hollywood, but this took the cake. She stared blankly at the Santa's Village sign, biting her lower lip to keep from screaming. Children were running around loudly shrieking and people were dressed like elves, plus there was an endless stream of Christmas music racking her brain. She had reached a level in hell.

Dean put his arm around her shoulders, guiding her into the place since he noticed her feet wanted to stay rooted to one spot in hopes she'd disappear. "It does kind of lend Credence to the theory, don't it?"

"Yeah, but anti-claus? Couldn't be. Though it'd be a great place to hide out if you were shopping for people to eat," she forced a smile.

"You're smiling. It's a Christmas miracle. Hey, speaking of, we should have one this year," he said to both of them.

"Have one what?" Sam asked.

"Christmas," Dean said.

He scoffed and shook his head, "No."

"We'll get a tree, a little Boston market, just like when we're little. What do you do for Christmas, Bridge?"

"Usually, I was with you and your dad killing whatever was needed then getting Christmas dinner with you guys through the Jack in the Box drive thru. Nothing says Christmas like an eggnog milkshake and a jumbo jack."

"Sounds like our old Christmases, don't it, Sammy," he grinned at his brother.

"Dean, those weren't exactly hallmark memories for me, you know."

He rolled his eyes, "Don't listen to him. We had some great Christmases."

Sam stared at him blankly, "Whose childhood are you talking about?"

"Come on, Sam!"

"No…just…no."

Dean stared at him in surprise at his out burst. "All right, Grinch," he grabbed Bridget's hand and walked ahead with her, Sam trailing along lost in his own thoughts.

Bridget looked at the run down buildings in need of desperate pain jobs and kicked a rock across the gravel with a snort. "You'd think for the ten bucks it cost to get in this dump they'd at least get some snow."

"What are we even looking for, Sam?" Dean asked.

Sam still seemed to be off in a daze. Bridget snapped her fingers in front of his face causing him to blink. "Huh, what?"

"While you're day dreaming about naked elves, we're here wondering what we're looking for?" she reminded him of the job.

"Oh," Sam looked around as if remembering where he was. "The lore says that the anti-Claus will walk with a limp and smell like sweets."

"Great. So we're looking for a pimp Santa. Why the sweets?" Dean asked.

"Think about it, Dean. If you smell like candy, the kids will come closer, you know?" he said nonplus.

"That's creepy. How does this thing know who's been naughty and who's been nice?"

Sam shrugged as they looked around. "No idea."

Bridget spotted the Santa picture station where a few kids were lined up to see the jolly old man in front of the barn area. "We could start with old Saint Nick himself."

Dean nodded, "Not a bad idea."

A little boy was currently sitting on Santa's lap as they approached, being asked if he'd been a good boy that year. One of the "elves" stepped in front of them looking anything but jolly in their green uniform equipped with pointed shoes and a hat. The teenager couldn't even fake a smile through the acne on his face. "Welcome to Santa's court. Can I escort your child to Santa?"

"No. No. But my brother here has been dying to meet Santa," Dean said, grabbing Sammy by the arm and pulling him forward.

That got a reaction out of the elf boy as he stared at Sam like he was a freak. "Uh…sorry. No kids over 12."

"No, he's just kidding. We only came here to watch," Sam stammered realizing that sounded much worse.

Bridget snorted at the look on the elves face. "Eww," he mumbled and walked away leaving Sam stuttering to correct himself. He stared at them blankly. "Thanks a lot guys."

"Oh, I think you handled it really well," Bridget laughed, her laughter died out when she spotted Santa walking away. "Guys…look."

The brothers turned to see Santa walking away with a limp and a cough. "A lot of people walk with limps," Sam said.

Dean sniffed. "Tell me you didn't smell that. That was candy, man."

"Should we take the chance and spy on Santa?" Bridget asked.

"Might be worth it," Dean nodded.

"It's gonna be a long night…"

* * *

Bridget sat in the back of the Impala staring at the shabby house, doing one her least favorite things about her job: surveillance. It was second to research, nothing beat research though. Bent over a laptop while your eyes stranded and your back ached and the words in musty books blurred together until you couldn't comprehend them anymore. She'd rather sit in the car with Sam and Dean staring at a house. It was easier and she had coffee, especially while spying on a possibly cannibalistic Santa.

In the front Dean took the coffee canister from Sam. She smiled into her cup, knowing already it was empty since she had emptied it and planted it next to Sam. Dean's mouth became a tight line when he realized it was empty. He mumbled under his breath before looking at his brother. "Hey, Sam. Why are you the boy who hates Christmas?"

Bridget held her breath, waiting for the next battle rounds between the brothers.

Sam sighed, "Dean…"

His brother cut him off, "I mean, I admit it. We had a few bumpy holidays when we're kids."

"Bumpy?" he stared at his brother.

"That was then. The three of us will do it right this year."

"Look, Dean. If you and Bridget want to have Christmas, knock yourselves out. Just don't involve me."

"Maybe not in the after Christmas festivities where Dean opens his private present that involves mistletoe in other places. But why not have regular presents and a nice Jack in the Box meal like a dysfunctional family?"

"That's a great idea!" Dean chimed in with a grin at Bridget. "Both parts of that…especially the mistletoe part…"

Sam ignored the comment and turned back to the house catching their Santa peeking outside his window with a beer can in one hand and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "What's up with saint Nicotine?"

"Nothing yet," Sam said. "We better go check it out though, He just closed his blinds."

Bridget was quick to jump out of the car and stretch her legs, taking the safety off her gun discreetly as the crept up to the run down house, circling to the door. Dean looked over at her and Sam who stood on the opposite side and nodded.

Sam snorted slightly.

"What?" Dean whispered.

"Nothing, just Mr. Gung Ho Christmas might have to blow away Santa."

Bridget shook her head and opened the door, stepping inside gun in hand. The three stood there, shocked to see Santa staring at them confused as he took a hit from his bong. "What the hell…" he said confused.

Bridget exchanged a worried look with Dean as she tucked her gun away. Sam cleared his throat unsure of what to do. "Ummm…"

"S-silent night," Dean started singing.

"Holy night," Bridget chimed in nervously.

"All is well, all is dry," Sam started.

"Bright," Santa started singing, falling for it in his high state of mind.

"Bright," Sam corrected himself. "Umm. Round and round…the table," Sam sung confused.

Bridget nudged him with her elbow, correcting the song. "Round your virgins," Dean eyed her at the words and she gave him a warning glare as she continued singing, "mother and child." She started moving them backwards, out the front door and closed it behind her, leaving Santa to sing and eat his cookies in his baked state. She snorted and shook her head, no words to sum up the event that took place.

* * *

To no surprise while they were spying on a "get high" Santa that was a bust, the actual cannibal struck again. Bridget kicked herself for not being able to stop the bastard before he made another kill, but it was collateral damage to catch the real Saint Nick.

Dean was currently interviewing the next middle class house wife as they stood inside another two story white picket fence house. "So, that's how your son described the attack? "Santa took daddy up the chimney"?"

"That's what he says," she nodded, running her fingers through her disheveled hair.

"Where were you at the time?" Bridget asked.

"I was asleep and all of a sudden… I was being dragged out of bed, screaming," she shook her head at the memory, biting her lower lip.

"Did you see the attacker?" Sam questioned and she noticed his eyes focus on the fireplace.

She shook her head again. "It was dark and he hit me."

"Yeah… um, Mrs. Caldwell, where did you get that wreath above the fireplace?" Sam asked out of the blue causing Bridget to frown as she inspected it. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it. Bridget may have been a bitch at times and surely Dean could be an asshole but never to the degree of asking a question about decoration while questioning a woman about her dead husband.

"Excuse me?" the woman asked flustered.

"Just curious…I've seen one before…"

Bridget stepped in before Sam could say anything more to anger the mourning woman. "I think that'll do it, Mrs. Cadwell. We'll call you if we need anything else or if we get any leads." She stood up, grabbing Sam by his arm to lead him out of the house as Dean followed.

"Wreaths, huh? Sure you didn't want to ask her about her shoes? I saw some nice handbags in the foyer," Dean asked frustrated.

"We've seen that wreath before," Sam said calmly.

"Where?" Bridget asked.

"The Walsh's. Yesterday."

"Okay…so now we need to know who makes them," Bridget nodded her head, glad they at least had some sort of lead.

* * *

They did what they always seemed to do when they were stuck on a case; call Bobby. Sam was sitting at the table on the phone with him, his laptop opened in front of him. Bridget sat on the bed near Dean, her drawing pad open in her lap for some sort of clue besides drawings of angels that seemed to be becoming a new theme. They went along with Christmas but she was doubting it had to do with this case.

"Yeah all right. Well keep looking, would you? Thanks Bobby," he hung up the phone, putting it on the table and running a hand over his face. "Well… we're not dealing with the anti-Claus."

"What did Bobby say?" Bridget asked.

"That we're idiots."

She snorted, "We knew he'd say that. What else?"

"He also said that it was probably meadowsweet in those wreaths," Sam said and leaned back in his chair.

"Huh…that makes sense," Bridget nodded, pondering it over in her mind.

Dean looked back and forth at them, waiting for an explanation. "Wow! Amazing. What the hell is meadowsweet?"

"It's pretty rare and it's probably the most powerful plant in pagan lore," Sam answered.

A blank expression crossed his face, "Pagan lore?"

Sam sighed and clicked at his laptop bringing up the page he was looking at and turning his computer around for them to see. "Yeah. See, they used meadowsweet for human sacrifices. It was kind of like a… chum for their Gods. Gods were drawn to it and they'd stop by and snack on whatever was the nearest human."

"Why would somebody be using that for Christmas wreaths?"

"If they're feeding the Gods then it's not as crazy as it sounds. It would basically be a homing mechanism for the God to feed, a diner bell of sorts."

"That's crazy," he shook his head.

"It's not as crazy as it sound, Dean. I mean, pretty much every Christmas tradition is pagan," Sam told him.

"Christmas is Jesus's Birthday," he argued.

"No, Jesus' birthday was probably in the fall. It was actually the winter solstice festival that was co-opted by the church and renamed "Christmas". But the Yule log, the tree, even the Santa's red suit, that's all remnants of pagan worship."

"How do you know that? What are you gonna tell me next? Easter bunny's jewish?"

Sam stared at him speechless and glanced over at Bridget for an answer. She slowly shook her head, indicating to him to just let it go.

"So you think we're gonna be dealing with a pagan God?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, the God of the winter solstice."

Bridget let out a breath. "And all their Martha Stewart wannabes, buying these fancy wreaths…"

"Yeah, it's pretty much like putting a neon sign on your front door saying "Come kill us"," Sam nodded.

"Great," Dean sighed.

"Guess what he gives you in return," Sam smiled as he read on from the website article.

"Lap dances?" Dean asked raising an eyebrow.

"Mild weather…"

Bridget nodded her head, "Explains why there's no snow in Michigan."

"Do we know how to kill it?" Dean questioned.

"Not yet, Bobby's working on that right now. We got to figure out where they're selling those wreaths," Sam told them.

"You think they're selling them on purpose? Feeding the victims to this thing?"

"It would make sense," Bridget said and closed her book, grabbing her jacket.

"Let's find out," Sam agreed.

* * *

Of course it was one Christmas shop after another they had to go to in search of these wreaths. After seven stores they still had no luck. Bridget was beginning to lose it on the holiday cheer over load and the continuous holiday music that was raping her ears wherever they went. The next shop was just as bad as the other, except this time the shop keeper was an overly cheerful old man with short grey hair and a full set of pearly whites that he seemed to love to beam at people and a Snowman sweater vest to go with the whole appearance.

"Can I help you guys?"

"Uh, hope so. Uh we're playing jenga with the Walshes the other night, and a… he hasn't shut up since about this Christmas wreath," Dean looked at Sam with a smirk. "I don't know you tell him."

"Sure. It was yummy…"

"Well, I sell a lot of wreaths," he chuckled.

"Yea, right, but you see, this one would have been really special. It had, uh, it had, uh, green leaves, um, white buds on it. It might have been made of, uh… meadowsweet?"

"Well, aren't you fussy one?" he grinned, Bridget was starting to think his face was stuck that way.

"He sure is," Dean nodded.

"Anyway, I know the one you're talking about, but I'm all out."

"Seems like this meadowsweet stuff's pretty rare and expensive. Why make wreaths out of it?"

"Beats me, I didn't make them."

"Who did?" Bridget asked, now they were getting somewhere.

"Madge Carrigan, a local lady. She said the wreaths were so special, she gave them for free."

"Free?" Bridget asked, that sent up a red flag. "She didn't charge you?"

"Nope."

"Did you sell them for free?"

The cheery side dropped away as the real side appeared, "Hell no, people pay a buttload for that crap."

"That's the spirit," Bridget nodded as they bid their farewell and left heading back to the hotel. It was dark out by the time they got back to their room. Dean flicked on the light as they walked inside.

"How much do you think that meadow crap cost?"

"Couple hundred at least," Sam shrugged.

"This lady's giving them away for free? What do you think about that?"

Bridget sat on the bed, unzipping her boots. "Sounds suspicious to me."

Dean sat next to her, looking over at Sam on his bed, "Remember that wreath dad brought home that one year?"

"Do you mean the one he stole from, like, a liquor store?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, it was a bunch of empty beer cans. That thing was great. I bet if I looked around hard enough, I could probably find one just like it."

Bridget paused waiting to hear the next blow up on the Christmas idea.

Sam sat up on his elbows, staring at Dean, "All right…dude…what's going on with you?"

"What?" he shrugged.

"I mean, since when are you being Crosby all of a sudden? Why do you want Christmas so bad?"

Dean argued back, "Why are you so against it? Were your childhood memories that traumatic?"

"No, that has nothing to do with this."

"Then what, Sam?"

That seemed to get Sam, Bridget noticed as he fumbled for the words, "I-I mean, I-I just, I don't get it. You haven't talked about Christmas in years."

"Well yeah, this is my last year."

And there was the answer to the reason they were all waiting to hear. Sam nodded. "I know…that's why I can't."

"What do you mean?"

Sam gave him an earnest look. "I mean I can't just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything's okay. When I know next Christmas you'll be dead. I just can't." He stood up and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door, the lock clicking into place behind him.

Bridget sighed and flicked on the TV, more than used to the brotherly arguments especially the ones concerning Dean's inevitable death that was morbid for her to be "used" to. "Let's see what's on," she said, leaning back against the pillows.

"Does it bother you?" Dean asked.

"Everything about this bothers me, Dean. If it didn't then I'd worry," she told him.

"I mean about my death."

"So did I…"

"Then why are you acting like it's no big deal while Sam is having bitch fits."

"Because if I showed it bothered me whenever it did, which is always, then I'd get nothing done…and one bitch in the group is enough."

Dean snorted and moved up next to her on the bed, taking the remote and pressing the up button. "Hell yes! _Christmas Story_, best Christmas movie ever!"

"I can live with this," she said, stretching out next to him, head on his chest. They laid there watching the movie, eating a bag of cheese flavored popcorn in silence. She planed on enjoying the time she had with Dean, rather than regretting it later. She only hoped Sam would feel the same way.

* * *

Bridget stared at the house the supposed crazy wreath makers lived in and from the sight of the house she could believe that only psychotic cannibal eating god worshipers could live here. It looked like Christmas barfed all over the lawn with the Reindeer stand ups in the yard and an obnoxious moving Santa Claus that kept saying "ho ho ho." They even had holiday themed gnomes scattered about the lawn.

"This is where Mrs. Wreath lives, huh? Can't you just feel the evil pagan vibe?" Dean joked.

"Actually, I can. It's a Christmas nightmare," Bridget mumbled as they walked up to the doorstep and rang the bell.

A plump cheery older woman answered the door. Bridget tried not to show the surprise at her Christmas attire on her face. The woman was wearing a red snowman sweater vest over a white collared shirt equipped with a wreath brooch at the neck. Her hair was even tied back with a red ribbon. It was almost too much.

"Yes?" she asked with a grin.

Dean gave her a charming smile, "Please tell me you're the Madge Carrigan who makes the meadowsweet wreaths."

"Why, yes I am," she continued grinning.

"Yes! Bingo," Dean nodded at them.

Sam shook his head slightly, "Well, we were just admiring your wreaths in Mr. Sylar's place the other day."

"You were," she said cheerfully. "Well, isn't that meadowsweet just the finest-smelling thing you ever smelled?"

"It is, it sure is. But the problem is, is all you wreaths had sold out before we got the chance to buy one."

"Ohh fudge," she pouted and Bridget almost lost it. No surprised this woman didn't use profanities.

She hid her smile, "You wouldn't have another one that we could buy from you, would you?"

"No, I'm afraid those were the only ones I had for this season."

"Awwww," Bridget snapped her fingers, feeling it wasn't out of place with this woman to do so.

Dean nodded, "Tell me something, why did you decide to make them out of meadowsweet?"

"Why, the smell, of course! I don't think I've ever smelled anything finer."

"Yeah…you mentioned that," Sam nodded.

"What's going on, honey?" A man came to the door and Bridget had to pretend to cough, he matched the woman in every way. Same cheery grin and salt and pepper colored hair. Except his sweater was green with Christmas lights decorating it. The pivotal cliché Grandma and Grandpa figure…except they might be cannibalistic.

"Oh, Edward. Well, just some nice kids asking about my wreaths, dear."

He grinned with a nod, holding a plate in his hand. "Oh the wreaths are fine. Fine wreaths. Oh, care for some peanut brittle?"

Dean's eyes lit up at the sight of the plate and he started reaching for one until Bridget grabbed his hand. "No, thank you. We were just wondering if we could get a wreath but I guess we'll have to wait for next year. Have a good day." She dragged him away from the door and peanut brittle and back to the car. Something was definitely off with those two and she was determined to find out. No one was that cheery without hiding something.

* * *

Back at the hotel Sam went back to his laptop, trying to find information on that overly cheery couple. Dean busied himself sharpening stakes made from evergreen and Bridget read up on Pagan myths from her own computer.

"Ah ha! I knew something was off with those two." Sam said and spun his laptop around.

"What did you find?" Bridget asked, scooting to see the screen.

"The Carrigans lived in Seattle, last year, where two abductions took place right around Christmas. They moved here in January. All that Christmas crap in their house wasn't boughs of holly. It was vervain and mint."

Bridget whistled, "That's some serious Pagan stuff."

"So what, Ozzie and Harriet are keeping a pagan God hidden underneath their plastic-covered couch?" Dean questioned.

"I don't know. All I know we're gotta check them out. So, what about Bobby? He's sure evergreen stakes will kill this thing, right?"

"Yeah, he's sure," Dean nodded.

"Looks like we got a god to kill…," she pursued her lips for a moment. "That's a new one on our list."

"I'd say so," Dean agreed.

* * *

Without much effort, they were able to slip inside the Carrigans house by doing nothing more than picking the lock. Bridget gripped her stake in her hand, moving in behind Dean as they entered the dark house that, to her, seemed just as creepy at night as it was during the day. The decorations appeared more sinister and eerie as the fake Santa's and elves stared at them from the shadows. Dean nudged her with his elbow, nodding his head to the furniture that was covered in plastic. "Told you so."

She rolled her eyes at him and motioned that she was going to the kitchen. He nodded and pointed to the living room. She made her way into the kitchen as Sam went down the hall near her. She was stunned by the amount of fruit cakes that were covered in Saran wrap along the counters and the collection of Nutcrackers that decorated that breakfast bar. She shook her head and then noticed the door. "Sam, Dean," she whispered loudly and waited for the two to approach, pointing at the door with her stake.

Dean took out his flash light and Sam slowly eased open the door, thankful when it didn't creak. The three made their way down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, Bridget's eyes widened at the sight of the bones and blood stains covering the ground and bags hanging from the ceiling. "Holy shit…"

Sam moved forward, inspecting a few of them and poked at one. He jumped back as it moved and Bridget's necklace thrummed against her chest causing her to gasp just as Madge jumped out of the darkness in her Christmas sweater, grabbing Sam by the neck.

"Sam!" she yelled, moving forward only to be sucker punched in the face by Edward. She hit the ground hard, the stake sliding from her hand as the basement blurred in front of her. She was dimly aware of Dean shouting before feeling him hit the ground beside her and briefly her Madge speak before everything went dark and she was aware of nothing anymore.

The first thing she did become aware of was the throbbing from the side of her face followed by the fact her hands were to the arms of the chair and she was sitting in a triangle formation in the kitchen.

"Bridget," Dean said from her left. "You okay?"

"Owww…and yeah."

"So…I guess were dealing with Mr. and Mrs. God," Sam stated the obvious.

"What was your first clue? Them taking us out without breaking a sweat or the bone yard in the basement?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

The Carrigans chose then to come back into the kitchen with their big grins and Christmas sweaters that made Bridget want to hurl on them. Part from the pain she was feeling and part from the cheer that vibrated off them.

"Ohh good. You three are awake," Madge grinned with a giggle and shrug of her shoulders in delight. "Here we thought you three lazybones were gonna sleep straight through all the fun stuff."

"Miss all this?" Dean joked. "Never."

Edward puffed on his pipe. "Isn't he a kick in the pants, honey? You're hunters is what you are."

"And you're pagan Gods. So, why don't we just call it even and go our separate ways?" Dean bargained in vain.

"So you can bring more hunters and kill us? Ha ha… I don't think so," he shook his head.

"Well, you should have thought about that before snacking on humans," Bridget warned them.

"Ohh now, don't get all wet about it," Edward teased.

Bridget shook her head at the statement and turned her head towards Dean who she knew was grinning at the line. "Dean, hun, now is not the time to crack a joke on that."

"It's Christmas, live a little…while we can," he muttered.

Madge put a napkin on her lap then one on Deans, "Oh, why, we used to take over a hundred tributes a year and that's a fact," she nodded, laying one on Sam's and looking at her husband. "Now what do we take? What, two? Three?"

"Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew here make six," he counted.

"Now that's not so bad, is it?" Madge asked them.

Dean shrugged, "You say it like that; I guess you guys are the Cunninghams."

Edward pointed at Dean, "You, mister better show us a little respect."

"Or what?" Sam asked. "You'll eat us?"

"Not like they weren't planning to do that anyway," Bridget said. "I suggest you eat them first, meatier than me you know."

"Not so fast," Edward told her. "There're rituals first."

Madge made a flabbergasted sound, "Oh, we're just sticklers for ritual."

He smiled at her, "And you know what kicks off the whole shebang?"

"Let me guess," Bridget said. "Meadowsweet. Oh shucks, you're all out of wreaths. I guess we'll just have to cancel the sacrifice, huh?"

Madge smiled at her, putting a Meadowsweet lei around her neck and the boys. "Oh, don't be such a downer Debbie." She stood back, grinning at them. "Don't they look darling?"

Edward licked his teeth, "Good enough to eat. Time for step two." He grabbed a bowl and a knife from the counter stepping towards Bridget. "Ladies first."

"Hey, don't!" Sam yelled turning his head to try to look at her.

"No! No!" Bridget tried pulling away but couldn't move an inch with the ropes holding her in place. He dragged the knife cross her forearm and she let out a hiss of pain as blood welled from the cut into the bowl.

"Bridget!" Dean yelled as Edward was moving on to Sam, doing the same process. "Leave her alone, you son of a bitch."

Madge pointed the knife at him. "Hear how they talk to us? To Gods? Listen, pal, back in the day, we were worshiped by millions."

"Well, times have changed," Bridget seethed.

Edward snorted, holding the bowl of blood. "Tell me about it. All of a sudden, this Jesus character is the hot new thing in town. All of a sudden, our altars are being burned down, and we're being hunted down like common monsters."

"But did we say a peep? Oh… no, no, no, we did not. Two millenniums and we kept a low profile. We got jobs, we paid taxes. We assimilated. Why we play bridge on Tuesday and Fridays. We're just like everybody else."

"You're not blending in as smooth as you think, lady," Dean shook his head.

Madge grabbed the bowl, "This might pinch a bit, dear." She slid the knife across Dean's arm causing him to curse.

"You bitch!" he yelled.

"Dean!" Bridget twisted her head to look at him.

"I'm good. Just peachy. I'm gonna kick some Pagan ass some point soon though."

"Oh, my goodness me! Somebody owes a nickel to the swear jar. Oh, do you know what I say when I feel like swearing? Fudge," Madge said and Bridget couldn't help but snort.

"We'll remember that."

"You kids have no idea how lucky you are. There was a time when kids came from miles around. Just to be sitting where you are," Edward told them.

"I'm finding that hard to believe since you don't own a house made of candy," Bridget said.

Edward picked up another, more sinister knife and smiled at them. Sam gulped. "What do you think you're doing with those?"

The old man kneeled over Bridget. She shook her head. "If you fudgin' touch me again, I will fudgin' kill you!" Bridget growled angrily.

"You touch her and I will kill you," Dean threatened. "Do you hear me!"

Edward ignored him with a smiled and slid the knife across her arm again and she let out a cry of pain.

"Bridget! No! No, whatever you're going to do to her do to me instead," Sam begged, trying to get loose from his seat. That caught Edward's attention.

"You volunteer for her pain?"

"Yes," Sam nodded sternly, looking him in the eye. "Don't hurt her anymore."

"Sam, no," Bridget shook her head, her arm throbbing as much as her face was.

"I owe you, Bridget," Sam told her. "This much I owe you at the least."

"How noble of you," he grabbed Sam's hand in lightening speed, holding his index finger out and grabbed the pliers off the table. Bridget watched in horror as he yanked Sam's nail out from his finger and listened helplessly as he screamed from the pain that should have been hers.

Edward held up the nail, "We got a winner."

"Well, what else, dear?" Madge asked.

"Let's see: blood, fingernail, ohh," he smacked a hand to his forehead. "Sweet Peter on a popsicle stick we almost forgot the tooth. I think I'll spare these two," he gestured at Sam and Bridget and moved to Dean.

"Dean…" Bridget said warily as Edward moved in front of him.

Dean moved his head out of the way until Edward grabbed him by the chin. "Open wide." He pried Dean's mouth open and inserted the pliers. Bridget turned away unable to watch and only opened her eyes when she heard the doorbell ring.

Dean looked around, speaking with his mouth full still, "'omeone 'onna 'et 'at."

Edward sighed and put down the pliers, looking at Madge. "Come on."

"Don't you three go anywhere," she grinned.

As they left the room, Bridget bent her leg back up to the chair and managed to get her knife out of her boot, thankful she wore knee highs that concealed them better and were easy to get to. With much ease from getting out of too many of these situations, she was able to get herself free and quickly moved to Dean then Sam.

"Dean, Bridget…the tree," Sam pointed. "It's evergreen."

"You sure," Dean whispered.

He nodded, wrapping the handkerchief around his injured finger. "It'll have to do."

They hid behind the kitchen doors, prepared the shut them. The cheerful gods entered the kitchen and the three slammed the kitchen doors into place, dropping a cabinet that was against the wall in front of it.

"Get the branches," Dean shouted, pushing himself against the cabinet as the pissed off Gods pounded on it from the other side. Bridget and Sam yanked branches off the tree, pulling the twigs off to make the stakes out of them.

Bridget paused suddenly, looking towards the doors. "Do you hear that?"

Sam shook his head, "I don't hear anything."

Dean moved away, "What are they up-"

He was cut off by Edward unexpectedly tackling him from the side down to the floor with a growl.

Madge came storming in behind him. "My tree! You've ruined it!"

Sam moved up to her only to be hit over the couch with one fell swoop. She stalked towards Bridget, face contorted. Bridget thrust the branch forward as hard as she could, using whatever power she could muster at that moment to give it added force. It tore straight through Madge and she let out a ghastly shriek. It caught Edward's attention from Dean as he yelled her name, "Madge!"

He stood, striding towards her, his eyes deadly focused on Bridget, which came to a benefit since he didn't notice Sam come up behind him until the end of the branch was sticking through his chest. He fell down dead next to his wife. Dean walked over and put his arm around Bridget, sighing in relief. "Merry Christmas…"

"Uh huh…" she nodded. "Let's go back to the hotel now…I need a beer."

"We better stop and get some," Dean said.

"Drop me off at the hotel before you do that," Sam suggested. "I want a hot shower before you take up all the water."

"Suit yourself," Dean nodded as they left.

He had dropped Sam off at the hotel and went to get drinks and snacks with Bridget. Upon getting back, both were pleasantly surprised to find the room decorated. Sam smiled at them, hanging up the last ornament on the wall with his good hand.

"You guys get the beer?" he asked with a smile.

Bridget looked around at the decorations and could gear Ella Fitzgerald singing from Sam's laptop that had a fireplace screensaver playing across it on the table. "What's all this?"

"What do you think it is?" he held his arms out. "It's Christmas."

Dean stared at the Merry Christmas banner on the wall. "And what made you change your Scrooge like mind?"

"Here," Sam avoided the question, handing them each a glass. "Try the eggnog. Let me know if it needs more kick."

Bridget sat on the couch, taking a sip and almost choking, "Nope, definitely good on the kick."

"Yup, we're good," Dean agreed.

"Yeah?" Sam grinned, all too happy. "Good. Well uh, have a seat. Let's do Christmas stuff or whatever."

Bridget shrugged and leaned over the couch, grabbing her drawing bag. Sam handed her a wrapped gift and Dean while Dean plopped another gift in her lap and handed one over to his brother.

Bridget opened the one from Sam. "Ooo, M&M's, Charm Pops, and pencils. How did you know?"

"You snack when you draw," he smiled as he opened his from Dean, laughing. "Skin magazines and shaving cream."

Dean chuckled just the same at the energy bar and bottle of oil. "Fuel for me and fuel for my baby. Thanks Sam."

"Really, Dean?" Bridget raised her eyebrow holding up the box of condoms.

He smiled, "It's sentimental…and predicting."

She shook her head and took two drawings she had done over the last couple weeks for this occasion out of her bag. "Here," she handed one sheet to Dean and the other to Sam. Both were life like sketches of the three of them. Dean's had them sitting on the Impala each staring off in a different direction and Sam's was of one while they were in a hotel room, Sam on his laptop, Dean cleaning his weapons with a half eaten hamburger sitting next to him, and Bridget drawing in her book.

"Wow, Bridge, these are amazing," Sam said, studying his. "So real…except the hamburger would actually be gone."

She smiled, "Glad you like them."

"Truly amazing work, babe. What else did you get me?" Dean asked her.

Bridget rolled her eyes, "Greedy little thing aren't you?" She leaned across him and whispered in his ear.

Dean's face lit up quickly into a wicked grin. "Ohhh, you have been a naughty girl this year."

Sam groaned, "Save whatever that thought is for a different night when we have different rooms and weren't just beat up by Gods."

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath and holding up his cup of eggnog, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Sam nodded. "You guys feel like watching the game?"

"Yeah," Bridget said, snuggling deeper into the couch, Dean cuddled on one side of her, Sam sitting on her other. It wasn't the perfect Christmas, but it was close and all three were thinking the same thing. It could be there last as a trio. They ignored the ebbing though for now, focusing on the game and the wonderment that it was finally snowing outside.


	38. S3 Long Distance Call

**A/N: This took way longer to write than I had hoped and I can hopefully get the next one posted quicker than it took to do this one. Again I do not own any of the characters. Bridget came from watching Brooke (One Tree Hill) and Dean/Sam videos on youtube. Thought it'd be an interesting idea and ran with it so enjoy his newest episode redo. **

* * *

**S3 – Long Distance Call  
**

Bridget sat on a blue bench in the middle of City Square next to Dean, drawing in her book, something she hadn't had the urge to do in awhile. A clock this time, ticking down to its last minutes. To what, she didn't know, but the cold feeling it left in her gut told her it was nothing good. She absent mindedly moved the ring on her necklace back and forth, almost like a pendulum as she stared at it.

Next to her, Dean was finishing up a phone call, the irritated tone snapping her out of her thoughts and she noticed Sam coming back from the campus. "Okay. Yep. I got it. Bye." He looked up at Sam. "So?"

"So, the professor didn't show up," Sam shrugged.

"Shocking," Dean said and stood up. "Come on. Pack up your stuff. We're headed to Ohio."

"Why? What's up?" Bridget asked, shutting her drawing pad and the worry attached to the picture for now.

"That was Bobby. Some banker guy blew his head off in Ohio and he thinks there's a spirit involved."

"So you two were talking about cases?" Sam asked.

Dean rolled his eyes as they headed for the Impala. "No, we were actually talking about our feelings. And then our favorite boy bands. Yeah, we were talking a case!"

"It's a spirit?" Bridget asked.

"Yeah, the banker was talking about some sort of electrical problems at his pad for like a week. Phone was going haywire, computer was flipping on and off."

"Huh…" Sam said and let his voice trail off.

"This isn't ringing any bells?"

"Yeah…but we already got a case."

"Whose?" Dean asked.

"Yours," Sam answered and even Bridget held her breath. This was going to start up again. After a few peaceful weeks of no fighting and no bickering, it was starting again but time was running out and they all knew it.

Dean snorted, "Right. Yeah. Well, you could've fooled me."

She sighed, looking away and letting them argue it out. "What the hell else have we been doing lately other than trying to break your deal?"

"Chasing our tails, that's what. Sam, we've talked to every professor, witch, soothsayer and two bit carny act in the lower 48. Nobody knows squat! And we can't find Bela, we can't find the Colt. So until we actually find something, I'd like to do my job."

"Well there's one thing we haven't tried…"

His trial off made Bridget spin her head around, unable to keep her mouth shut about this. "No! No, we are not going to do that."

"But we could summon Ruby."

"No," Bridget said and set her eyes on him. "I don't trust that bitch as far as I can throw her, Sam, and I'm sure I can toss her demon ass pretty far. She comes off with a bad vibe and I don't like her."

"Just because you don't-"

She cut him off, "And neither does my necklace so drop it!"

That caused him to pause. Her necklace had never been wrong. It was the one Derek had made for her for her birthday. It was unique, made from white gold with diamond bits infused in it to give it an extra sparkle, but that wasn't the only reason it was one of a kind. It grew warm around her neck whenever Sam or Dean were in danger or it would grow hot and thrum against her skin if something evil was present. It didn't like Ruby. She could feel it growing warmer whenever the demon was around. The ring that hung on it was from Will, her late fiancé who died the same night as her brother and his family…killed by Lilith who was still around. The ring would glow if danger was eminent or if she was in pain, like a shield to protect her from it. There was something else in her, too, that she could feel. It only rose to the surface in times she needed it to, when she could move things without touching them and she was sure it was where her drawings came from, but she didn't know what it was…only that it wasn't like Sam's. It wasn't demon blood related.

"She can't help us anyways," Dean shook his head.

"You know that for sure?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

"How?" Sam pushed and even Bridget was curious.

He spun around on them. "Because she told me, ok?"

"What?" Sam asked stunned.

"She told me. Flat out. She can't save me, nobody can."

Bridget stared at him shocked and hurt, "And you neglected to tell me that you went and _talked_ to her?"

"It was no big deal…"

"You know how I feel about her, what everything in me is telling me about her, Dean!"

"Just drop it!"

She bit her lip and hurried to the car letting Sam deal with Dean as she leaned against the door, looking through her drawing pad.

"Well, I really don't care what that bitch thinks and neither should you, so…" she could hear Dean telling Sam.

"So what, now you're keeping secrets from me, Dean?" Sam shot back.

"You really wanna talk about whose keeping secrets from who?" Dean asked quietly.

Bridget stopped on a sketch, one of Sam bent over an arm that was cut open. She shivered internally; he was licking at the blood that dripped out from the wound. She looked up as they headed her way, eyes on Sam. There were more secrets that were going to be kept, just not today…but soon.

* * *

Back in her usual FBI getup, Bridget adjusted her blazer, bending down in her heels to study the ground where Ben's body had been found, making sure to tuck her skirt under her legs as she did so.

"I found him there," Mrs. Waters said, gesturing to the spot Bridget was crouched next too.

"Why don't you take us through what happened and tell us what you saw?" Dean asked her.

"You mean besides my dead husband?" she asked coldly and even Bridget flinched.

"Just everything you saw, please," Bridget asked her as she stood up.

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. "Blood. Everywhere. The phone was ripped from the wall, his favorite scotch on the desk, what else could you possibly want to know?"

"Why was the phone ripped off the wall?" Sam asked her.

She shook her head, "I don't know."

"You mind if I take a look?" Sam asked her.

"I already went over this with the other detectives," she let out a deep breath.

"We will be out of your hair in a minute, ma'am," Bridget reassured her.

Sam pressed a few buttons on the phone, "Ma'am, what time did your husband die?"

"Sometime after eleven," she told him.

Bridget looked over at him and he tapped the phone display with his eyebrows raised at her and she nodded slightly. "What about strange phone calls? Receive any of those lately, weird interference, static, anything like that?"

"No," she said too quickly to be telling the truth.

Dean looked at her with raised eyebrows and she gritted her teeth. "I said no."

"Mrs. Waters, withholding information is a capitol offense," Dean reminded her.

She bit her lower lip and looked at the ground. "A couple weeks ago…there was this…this…."

"This what?" Bridget asked.

"I woke up one morning, I heard Ben in his study. I thought he was talking to a woman," she said with a shake of her head.

"What made you think that?" Sam asked.

"Because he kept calling her Linda. The thing is, I picked up the other line and nobody was there, Ben was talking to nobody," she ran a hand through her hair. "Just static."

"Did you ever speak to Ben about this phone call?" Bridget questioned.

"No…but I should have," she bit her lower lip and sat on the couch, staring at the spot she had found her husband.

"Did he ever say who Linda was?" Dean asked.

She snapped at him, eyes red from holding back tears. "What difference does it make now? He's dead."

Bridget motioned for the door. "That'll be all. Thank you for your cooperation."

* * *

Sam sat on the bed, trying his best to relax while Dean sat sharpening knives and cleaning guns, something he usually did in boredom while Bridget sat next to him, laptop on and looking up everything she could. She nudged Dean with her elbow and tapped on the screen. Dean looked, letting out a whistle. "Linda was a babe."

Sam sat up, "Did you find her."

Bridget nodded. "Her and Ben were high school sweethearts."

"So what happened?" he asked.

"Drunk driver hit them head on. Ben walked away," Bridget told them.

"So a dead flame calls to chat?" Sam questioned with a frown.

"You would think, but Linda was cremated."

"So why is she still floating around?" Dean scratched the back of his head.

Bridget shrugged, "No idea."

"What about the caller I.D.?"

"Turns out, it's a phone number," Sam told them.

"No phone number I've ever seen."

"Yeah, because it's a century old. Back when phones had cranks."

"Okay, so why use that number to reach out to someone."

"Got me there, too. But we should put a trace on it," Bridget suggested.

Dean frowned, "Well how the hell are we going to put a trace on something that's over 100 years old?"

"Oh there's ways," Bridget nodded. "You just need to know where to look."

Fortunately for them, she did and an hour later they were dressed in their FBI gear walking down a basement with a nerdy man leading the way, pushing his glasses up every now and then. "We don't get many people from HQ down here."

"Yes, well the main office mentioned there would be a lunch," Dean suggested.

Sam and Bridget gave him a pointed look at his comment behind the man's back. Dean smiled and shrugged, wanting to get the most out of a bad situation if he'd be stuck doing research on a century year old phone call. The man nodded sheepishly, "I will see what I can do. The man you want to be speaking to is right in here," he opened a door and his face turn into one of irritation. "Stewie, what did I tell you about keeping this damn place clean?"

Bridget entered from behind and couldn't help the scrunch and choking cough that came from the smell of the room that was somewhere between hot garbage and mold with trash wrappers and old pizza boxes scattered about. It explained the flies that were buzzing about the hallway and now in the room, the source of them insects. A middle aged Middle Eastern man jumped at the sound of his boss and clicked on some buttons on his computer in a hurry. "Spam mail…spam mail…" he said at the flashes of porn sites. Bridget snorted, sure that that was far from the truth.

The man shook his head with a sigh and introduced them, "Stewie Myers. Mr. Cambell. Mr. Raimi, and Ms. Berry."

He continued to ignore his boss, clicking off all the sites. There were at least twenty more of them on display. Quite a fetish, she could see. One even involved feet.

His boss flicked him in the back of the head, "From head quarters!"

Stewie quickly spun around crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap with a smile. The man shook his head. "Give them whatever they need."

"Will do," Stewie complied.

"Thank you," Bridget nodded as his boss walked out of the room.

"So…how can I help you?" Stewie asked.

Dean glanced at the door then gestured at his computer with a smirk, "Is that, uh, ?"

Bridget rolled her eyes as the man eyes widened, "No!"

"Oh me so horny," the computer seemed to taunt with the woman's voice over the speaker.

Stewie scratched the back of his head, "Ok maybe."

"A word to the wise? Platinum membership? Worth every penny," Dean advised.

Bridget shook her head, "Right…we're here to trace a number."

Sam handed Stewie the paper and he looked at it curiously. "Where did you get this?"

"Off a caller ID."

"That's not possible," he shook his head.

"It hasn't been used in a few years, we know," Dean told him.

"A few years?" he snorted. "It's prehistoric. Trust me, nobody is using this number anymore."

"Humor us, could you run it anyway," Bridget asked.

He gave her a dead pan look and replied snarky, "Sure. Why don't I just rearrange my whole life first."

Dean smiled at him coolly and leaned over his desk to get closer to his face, "Listen, uh, Stewie. You got like six kinds of employee code violations down here, not to mention the sickening porn that is clogging up your hard drive. Now when my partner says run the number, I suggest you run the number!"

Stewie glanced at his computer where the busted Asian babe waited to be clicked on then glanced back at them all grinning back at him. He sighed, "Okay, whatever, jeez!"

He clicked a few buttons in a database and a list popped up. "Holy crap!"

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"I can't tell you where the number comes from, but I can tell you where it's been going."

"What do you mean?"

Stewie clicked print on his screen and handed the papers to Sam. "Ten different numbers in the past few weeks, all got calls from the same number."

Stewie glanced at the three of them, nervously bouncing his leg, "So, are we done here? Cause I was...sort of...busy?" he gesture at his computer.

"Eww," Bridget shook her head, glad to be leaving the room. Dean smirked at him and gave him a thumbs up as they left, now having to investigate who these numbers belonged to.

* * *

They parked the rental car a couple houses down the street from the house they were targeting. No need to use the Impala, besides, no one would believe they were from a telephone company or FBI agents for that matter in the Impala. Once again, Bridget wasn't surprised to see they were parked in a nice suburban area filled with lush green laws and lovely two story houses…much like the neighborhood she had grown up in and that Dean had lived in…why demons/monsters flocked to these areas, she never fully understood. She had to guess it was because they had more to lose, that or people in worse off neighborhoods knew how to deal with shit hitting the fan and weren't afraid of anything.

"Alright, Sam. You're up," Bridget nudged his shoulder from the backseat.

He sighed, checking the list again to make sure it was the right house. "Least I'm not impersonating federal agents today.

"That's the way to think of it, now go check. See who's getting the calls," Dean said. Sam nodded and headed towards the house. "Think this will work?"

"Well, FBI was getting old. Phone service makes more sense to question the quality of their service," Bridget told him.

"This is boring," he sighed. "Wanna fool around? It's a rental, we can tear it up," he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She snorted, "He'll be back in five minutes."

"And your point being?"

"We can't get anything done in five minutes," she shook her head.

"You can't, but I can," he corrected her.

She rolled her eyes, "If I can't then apparently _you_ can't."

He scoffed. "I'm going to challenge that later, you know."

"Sure thing, now let's wait for Sam to see what's going on so we can get this done first before we challenge other things," she said looking towards Sam's direction.

Sam reached the front door of the listed residents and rang the door bell, quickly adjusting his uniform as a middle aged man answered the door, his seven year old son next to him.

"Yeah?" the man said after looking Sam up and down curiously.

"Hello sir, I am with the phone company," he said.

"We didn't call the phone company," the man said dryly.

"Oh no sir, we're doing a routine check. We've had a lot of complaints from the neighborhood lately."

"Complaints?" the man asked curiously.

"Yes sir. Dropped calls, static, maybe even strange voices on the other end of the line?" Sam asked and noticed the teenager daughter passing behind him, her eyes widening as he listed the disturbances, but the father seemed to have no reaction to it.

"No, we haven't had any of that," he shook his head.

"Nothing?" Sam tried one more time.

"Nope."

"Okay, great. Just thought we'd check," Sam nodded, feeling slightly defeated and already trying to come up with a new plan.

"No problem, come on, Simon," the Dad said and closed the door.

Sam started walking to the car, as he got to the door the teenage girl from the house ran up to him. "There's no way you work for the phone company."

Sam stared at her startled, "Yes, I do."

"Since when does the phone company wear cheap unmarked uniforms and drive rental cars?" she folded her arms over her chest.

Sam leaned against the car, "Yeah, well. Maybe we're both keeping secrets."

She bit her lip nervously, "Why did you ask my Dad if he's hearing strange voices on the phone?"

"Why? Did you hear something?" Sam asked and Bridget stepped out of the car, looking at Sam. "Do we got something or not?"

"I was just asking…" Sam paused not having gotten her name.

"Lanie."

"Lanie," he continued. "About that…she seemed startled at the house when I was asking her Dad."

Dean popped up from the driver's side, looking at the girl. "Well, did you or not, sweetheart, we don't have all day?"

"Who are you people?" she asked. "Because it's not the phone company."

Sam focused on her. "Lanie, did you hear something strange or not? It's very important."

"No," she said fast.

"My mistake, we thought you did," Bridget said.

"Well, I didn't, okay?"

Sam smiled at her, "Okay, sorry to bother you." He nodded over at Dean who started getting back in the car, noticing Lanie shifting her weight from foot to foot and chewing on her lower lip.

Sam looked over at her one last time as he opened the passenger side door, "Because you know...if you did...then I would have told you that I've been right where you're standing right now. Hearing things, even seeing things that can't be explained, we all have. Maybe we would have been able to help out a little bit. Anyway," he shrugged.

She stepped closer, "Hey wait. Maybe...maybe I've been talking on the phone...with my Mom."

"Well that's not strange," he said.

Bridget pieced it together, "Unless her Mom is dead…which, I'm guessing she is."

Lanie nodded, "Three years ago."

"How often does she call you?"

"A few times. It started a week ago. I thought I was like, crazy or something."

Sam nodded, "Well I can tell you one thing for sure, and you're going to have to go with me on this, okay? You're not crazy."

They listened to what she said before heading back to the hotel after researching all the numbers the calls were placed to, they definitely had a number of people being called by the dead.

"So stiffs have been calling people all over town?" Dean said, leaning back against the couch in the hotel room.

"Looks like," Bridget nodded, looking over the list one more time.

"You got no drawings on this though?" Dean asked her.

She shook her head, "Nope, plenty of other things yet to come our way, but no dead phone call clues."

He shook his head running a hand over his face, "I had to talk to an 84 year old grandmother who's having phone sex with her husband, who died in Korea!"

Sam scrunched his face, "You win in the gross department."

Dean nodded, "It redefined my understanding of the word 'Necrophilia'."

"So, what the hell is going on here?" Bridget asked.

"Beats me, but we'd better find out soon. This place is turning into spook central," Dean said and stretched. "I think I need a beer. You guys want anything?"

Bridget shook her head and Sam shrugged, "No beer, but I could use a Pepsi."

He nodded and stood up, going towards the door as his phone rang. "That's either Bobby or Jo…" he opened his phone. "Hello?"

Static answered him at first and he frowned knowing sometimes Jo's phone would cut out depending on where they were. "Jo, that you?"

"Dean…" The voice said and he felt a cold chill run down his spine. His hand fell from the doorknob as he froze. "Dean, is that you?"

"Dad…" he replied and that caught Bridget and Sam's attention. "Dad?"

The call cut out, beeping on the other end as it was lost. Dean stared at his phone in shock.

"Dean…was that…Dad?" Sam asked from his spot at the table.

"I don't know…maybe," he said and started to pace nervously.

"What did he sound like?"

"Oprah!" he growled and ran a hand through his hair. "What do you think? It sounded just like Dad."

"What did he say, Dean?" Bridget asked.

"Just my name then the call cut out."

"Why would he even call?"

"If that's even him," Sam added.

"I don't know, man. Why are ghosts calling anybody in this town? But I mean, other people are hearing from their loved ones, why can't we? It's at least a possibility, right?"

"Yeah…I guess," Sam shrugged, perplexed by it all.

Dean paused mid stride, turning to look at the two people closest to him that he had left, minus Bobby. "Okay, so what if...what if it really is Dad? What happens if he calls back?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"What do I say?"

"Hello," Bridget offered.

He stared at her. "Hello? That's all you got."

"Dean, they're dead. These people are dead. There has to be something else behind this because people are winding up dead."

He shook his head, "I'm going for that beer now."

"Get me one too," Bridget added.

"Make it three," Sam said.

"What? No soda?" Dean asked.

"Things just got weirder, make it a beer," Sam said. Dean nodded and left the room leaving the two of them there. At least it was no longer awkward for Bridget, having moved past her issues with Sam, especially after she was dating Dean for the last few months.

"Should we order pizza or something?" Sam suggested, looking at his laptop.

"Let's wait for Dean. Who knows what the King of Food is in the mood for today," she said. She heard her phone ring on the table near Sam and put down her drawing pad, moving over to it. Bridget glanced at her phone, thinking it'd be Dean and froze at the caller ID. It was the ghost number. She tapped Sam's shoulder and pointed at her phone. "It's the number…what do I do?"

"I…uh…here give it to me," he said, unable to think of anything. She handed him the phone and he pressed answer, putting it to his ear. "Hello?" nothing but static answered. "Hello?" still receiving nothing, he handed the phone to her. "It's just static."

Bridget took it, staring at the screen before slowly putting it to her ear, sitting on the edge of the bed, afraid of who would be on the other end. "Hello?" she asked quietly.

"Bridge…are you there?" the voice from the other end said and she gasped, her heart jumping to her throat, glad she was sitting down or else she would have fallen down.

Sam looked at her wildly, hearing her gasp and seeing the tears in her eyes. "Who is it?"

"Are you there?" the voice repeated from the dead, the same voice she hadn't heard since the night he told her to run when the ceiling above him collapsed in the fire.

"Bridget," Sam touched her arm, "Who is it?"

"Derek?" she answered him and spoke into the phone as Sam's eyes widened.

"So good to hear you," he said through the statics.

She shook her head, closing her eyes. "I-I got to go." She hung up as he told her to wait and tossed the phone onto the bed, covering her face with her hands to stop them from shaking. It was Derek's voice. Clear as day before she hung up on him. One of the few people she ever wanted to see or speak to again had been on the other end. She let out a sob and felt Sam's arm go around her shoulders, pulling her towards him as he sat next to her. She leaned her head against his shoulder, unable to control the shaking or crying now.

"Its okay, Bridge…it's not him. It sounds like your brother, but it's not him."

Dean walked in then and frowned seeing Bridget distraught and the look of sadness on his own brother's face as he tried comforting her. "What happened?" he asked taking two strides towards Bridget, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands as Sam rubbed her back.

Sam answered for her, "She got a call…"

"Shit…who was it?"

"Derek," she sputtered before Sam could answer and sniffled, wiping the tears from her eyes with one of her hands and tried to regain her composure. "It was Derek…"

"Are you sure?" Dean asked.

"I know my brother's voice," she nodded and stood up. "We need to find out what's going on here…before my phone rings again. There has to be a reason."

"We have been and there is no reason this town should be getting anything supernatural going on it," Sam reluctantly sighed.

Dean snorted, "Well, you know, you think a Stanford education and a high school hook up rate of zero point zero would produce better results than that."

"Hilarious," Sam snorted at him, sitting back in front of his laptop.

"We're just not looking in the right place," he added.

"And what are the right places, Dean?"

Dean dropped a pamphlet onto the coffee table. "Motel pamphlet rack."

Bridget picked it up and read. She smirked a bit and shook her head slowly, licking the inside of her cheek as she read the inside. "I don't believe it," she turned it over Sam and looked at Dean. "Milan, Ohio…birth place of Thomas Edison."

Sam shrugged, "So what?"

"Read the inside…it'll make sense," Dean said.

Sam opened it and started to read. His eyes widened and he shot a look to the two of them. "I don't believe it."

"Looks like we're going to the museum," Bridget said and grabbed her jack and purse. She paused at her phone before stuffing it in her purse, hoping it wouldn't ring.

* * *

The museum was only fifteen minutes from the hotel and luckily for them, a tour had just started that they jumped into with the rest of the tourist. The guide, a young female, seemed to take her job way too seriously as an expert on everything Edison as if it meant something, which in this small town it probably did.

"And we're walking. And, here we have one of the museum's most unique and treasured possessions. Thomas Edison's "_spirit phone"_," she even quoted with her fingers. "Did you know that Mr. Edison, as well as being one of America's most beloved inventors, was also a devout "_occultist"_? Ooh!"

Bridget tried not to roll her eyes and Dean leaned over to her, "What's with all the quotey fingers…"

"I don't know, but between that and the perkiness, I can't take much more."

The guide kept talking, "He spent years working on this, his final invention, which he was convinced could be used to "_communicate"_ with the "_dead"_," more finger quotes. "Pretty spooky, huh?"

"This tour is spookier than dead phone calls," Dean admitted and even Sam stifled a laugh.

"And we're walking. We are walking. We're walking. And we're not touching that. And we're walking. And stop," the guide started moving the group to the next room and the moment they were out of visual range, Sam scanned the phone with an EMF detector.

"Anything?" Bridget asked.

He shook his head, "Nothing."

"So what do you think?" Dean questioned.

"Honestly?" he said, lips in a tight line. "It kinda looks like an old pile of junk to me."

Dean gestured to the back of it, "It's not even plugged in."

"Maybe it didn't work like that," Bridget said.

"Okay. So maybe it's like a radio tower, broadcasting the dead all over town."

"Could be," Sam agreed.

"You know, this caller I.D. is 100 years old, right? Right around the time this thing was built."

Bridget nodded, "Yeah, but why would it all of a sudden start working now?"

"I don't know. But as long as the dead are calling the freshers around here it's the best reason we've got."

"Maybe," Sam agreed to that.

"Then maybe it really was Dad calling," Dean said.

Bridget bit her lip to keep from saying anything. She didn't believe the dead were calling the living, didn't believe it could be real. It may have sounded like Derek on the other end of the phone, but it couldn't be. She just didn't want to shatter Dean's hope.

* * *

Dean sat up late in the hotel room, watching reruns of _Married with Children_ on the TV. Bridget was sound asleep next to him and Sam had passed out twenty minutes before on the other bed. He nudged Bridget a little, hoping to wake her up in hopes to maybe take things to the Impala but she just fidgeted and buried her face deeper in the pillow, throwing one of her legs over his. He sighed and focused his attention back on the television.

His phone started to buzz next to him and he glanced at it, heart pounding at the ID on the screen. It was his Dad. He grabbed the phone and quickly slid his leg out from under Bridget's before heading to the bathroom and closing the door.

He pushed talk on his phone, holding it to his ear. "Dad?"

"Dean…" his father spoke. It was definitely his voice.

"Is it really you?" he felt his heart jump to his throat.

"It's me."

"How can I be sure?"

"You can't," he said honestly, "Dean, how could you do it?"

"What?"

"Sell your soul."

Dean sat on the closed toilet. Of course his father would know about that. "I was looking after Sam like you told me to."

"I never wanted this. Never. You're my boy, I love you. I can't watch you to go to hell, Dean."

"I'm sorry…I don't know how to stop it."

"'Cause if you break the deal Sam dies, right?"

Dean frowned, "What?"

"Well, I know a way out for both of you," John went on, ignoring Dean's question.

"How?"

"The demon who holds your contract. He's here. Now."

Outside the hotel door, Bridget lay in bed. She glanced over at Sam who was sound asleep, she hadn't been. She had woken up after feeling Dean move out of the bed and head to the bathroom with his phone in hand. Normally that wouldn't be unusual. She knew him to play his zombie killing games while sitting in there for at least an hour, but hearing him answer his phone, she knew it was his dad…or what he thought was his Dad. She rolled over, trying to go back to sleep when her own phone buzzed. She lifted her head slightly to see it was a text message. She reached for it and saw the name SHA33 and a message. "Bridget? It's me. Please answer. I miss you." She shook her head and swallowed the lump in her throat, blocking the number in her listings before turning her phone on silent. It wasn't Derek. Her brother was dead, whatever this was, wasn't him, no matter how much she wished it was.

* * *

The next afternoon, Dean was typing furiously on the keyboard of the laptop. Bridget watched him over the paper of her drawing pad, wanting to ask him what he was up to but not wanting to pry. Sam had left a couple hours before after getting a phone call from Lanie. He had asked them to go but since Dean declined she decided to stick with him having a feeling it was related to the phone call last night.

Luckily Sam walked in at that point and Dean looked up from what he'd been doing. "What's up?"

"That girl, Lanie, her Mom's ghost spooked her out pretty bad last night," Sam told them, taking a seat across from Dean.

"That sucks," he said and went back to the laptop.

"Yeah it does. What are you doing?" Sam asked with a frown.

"I think Dad's right. I think the demon is here. Check it out," he turned the computer around for them to see and went over to his duffel bag.

Bridget looked at it curiously, "What is this? Weather reports?"

"Omens. Demonic omens. Electrical storms everywhere we've been for the past two weeks," he nodded.

Sam raised his eyebrows, "Uhh...I don't remember any lightning storms."

"Well, I don't remember you studying meteorology as a kid either. But I'm telling you, that bastard's been tailing me...wearing some poor dude's meat."

"And it's following you because…" Bridget trailed off, setting her drawing pad aside.

"I guess I'm big game, you know. My ass is too sweet to let outta sight."

Sam nodded, "Uh-huh, sure."

He turned the computer back around, "Don't get too excited, Sammy. Might pull something."

Sam sighed. "Dean, look, I wanna believe this man, I really do..."

"Then believe it! If we get this sucker, it's Miller Time."

"But that's another thing," Bridget said. "John just riddles off an exorcism that'll kill it. Not just send it to Hell, but kill it?"

Dean nodded, expecting one of them to question that exorcism. "I've checked it out. This is heavy duty Dark Ages. Fifteenth century."

Sam sighed quietly. "Yeah, we've checked on it too, Dean. And so did Bobby."

"And?" Dean waited.

Bridget motioned for Sam to continue. "Look. It definitely is an exorcism, okay, there's just no evidence it can kill a demon."

"No evidence it can't," he shrugged, seeming to have a response to everything.

"Come on man..." Sam shook his head and even Bridget sighed audibly. This was why she wasn't answering her phone when her "brother" called. She didn't want to get sucked into whatever it was doing because it would be too convincing just like John was to Dean.

"Hey, as far as I'm aware the only one of us who has actually been to hell is Dad. And maybe he picked up a couple of tricks down there, like which exorcisms work."

"Maybe it does," Bridget said. "I hope it does but we have to be sure."

He looked at them sternly. "And why aren't we sure?"

Sam explained, his impatience getting the best of him. "'Cause I don't know what's going on around here Dean! I mean, some guy blows his brains out, a little girl is scared out of her wits and Bridget is getting calls from her brother and you're getting info from Dad in how to kill a demon. It's too much."

Dean shook his head, "Wow, a couple of civvies are freaked out by some ghosts. News flash Sam, people are supposed to be freaked out by ghosts!"

"What about me then?" Bridget folded her arms over her chest. "I'm getting calls from Derek, Dean, and I'm freaked out because it can't be Derek."

"Why not?"

"Because he's dead, Dean! They're all dead and if it were them then people wouldn't be dying," she took a deep breath to calm down. "Did John tell you where the demon was?"

"I'm waiting for the call!" he yelled.

Bridget bit her lip to keep from yelling back. Sam sighed and reached for the car keys to the rental. "I told Lanie I'd stop by."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Oh, good yeah. No you go hang out with jail bait. Just, uh, watch out for Chris Hansen. Meanwhile I'll be here getting ready to, you know, save my life. You're unbelievable, you know that? I mean for months we've been trying to break this demon deal. Now Dad's about to give us the freaking address and you can't accept it? The man is dead and you're still butting heads with the guy!"

"That isn't what this is about," Sam shook his head.

Dean shouted, "So what is it?"

Bridget spoke standing up to grab her jacket, "The fact is we've got no hard proof here, Dean."

"You're getting calls from Derek, Bridge. What more do you want?"

"Anything can mimic the dead, Dean. Anything, and I know it's not Derek…this isn't how he'd contact me."

"Well not all of us have a glowing necklace to talk to people we lost," he shot back.

She stood there staring at him blankly. With a shake of her head she headed for the door. "I'm going with Sam. You need to cool off."

"Bridge, wait," Dean let out a deep breath as she was gone, already out of sight and waiting for Sam.

His younger brother just looked at him, "Please. Just please don't go anywhere until I get back. Okay, Dean? Please." Dean never replied and shook his head, leaving Dean with his thoughts as he met Bridget at the car.

* * *

It was nearing evening time when they got to Lanie's. He father wasn't home yet so they had time to talk in her bedroom. After hearing her recount of last night and seeing how visibly this affected her, Bridget knew there was much more to this than just phone calls from the dead.

"Have you told your father about any of this?" Sam asked her.

She made a "yeah right" noise and shook her head, "And bother him at work? No. He wouldn't believe me anyway, he'd just chuck me into therapy."

Bridget knew that wasn't far fetched in thought. How often did someone get a call from a dead relative. "So what did your mother say?"

Lanie paled a bit, her energy diminishing as she sat there, sinking into the bed and pulling her legs up closer to her, "She wanted to see me. So at first I thought I was supposed to go to the cemetery."

"Did you?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "But nothing happened. But then she started asking me to do other things."

"What sort of things?" Sam asked.

She wrapped her arms around her legs, "Bad things…"

"Lanie, please tell us what happened."

She took a deep breath, pulling her leg closer as if to make herself smaller. "Mom told me to go to Dad's medicine cabinet."

"And?" Bridget asked, though she had a feeling where this was going.

Tears filled her eyes, "She wanted me to take his sleeping pills, take all his sleeping pills."

"She wanted you to kill yourself," Sam said, confirming what he and Bridget had already suspected.

She nodded and looked up at them, seeming much younger suddenly, "Why would she want me to do that?"

"I don't know," Sam shook his head, sadly. He at least knew he was right. Something wasn't right about all of this.

"I mean, just so I could come to her," Lanie sniffled.

Bridget's head shot up at the same time Sam's did. "What did you say?"

Lanie rubbed at her face, "She wanted me to come to her."

"Did she say that exactly?" Bridget asked, her heart beating faster at a break in this case and an indication as to what they were actually dealing with.

"How did she say it?" Sam asked.

"Come to me," Lanie repeated. "Like a million times…"

Sam looked at Bridget and they were both thinking the same thing. She pulled out her cell phone as Sam looked back at Lanie. "Lanie, that's not your mother."

"Then who is it?"

"We need to go get your brother and go downstairs," he told her. "Listen to me. Don't answer the phone. Don't use the computer. Don't do anything unless I say to, all right?"

Lanie stood up and they walked out of her room. She paused in front of her younger brother's room, but he wasn't there. "Simon…where is he?"

Bridget felt a gust of wind and her necklace pulse against her. She knew that was her brother telling her something. "Sam," she tugged on his sleeve and pointed at the front door she could see from where she stood on the staircase. He turned and saw what she did. The door was wide open.

"Oh shit," he mumbled and ran out the door.

"Simon!" Lanie screamed and went to follow but Bridget grabbed the teenager and pulled her closer. "Sam's got him, Lanie. You need to stay here because it wants you too."

"But my brother!"

Bridget dragged her to the couch by her upper arms and sat her down, kneeling in front of her. "If you go out there, it can take you, too. But you gotta trust me, Sam will get Simon."

"How do you know that?"

Bridget smiled slightly at her. "Because I trust him with my life, too."

"You do?"

"Yes, him and his brother, every day of my life, I trust them and they haven't let me down yet."

"You guys do this stuff for a living?"

"Yes, we do. We chase away and get rid of the monsters."

"Why?"

"Because someone has to do it."

"Why did you choose it?" she asked, sniffling again and glancing at the front door.

She touched her necklace and the ring on the end of it, remembering briefly the night everything changed. "It chose me."

"And how did you meet them?" Referring to the brother's.

"They chose me, too," she smiled again.

Sam came in then, carrying a scared, otherwise, unharmed Simon. Lanie cried in relief, getting up from the couch to hug her brother. Sam touched her shoulder, getting the girl to focus on him for a minute. "Do me a favor, stay inside. Don't answer the phone, don't go on your computer. Don't do anything until we call saying its okay. Got it?"

She nodded, "Are you and Bridget going to stop the monsters?"

He paused and looked at Bridget who gave him a slight nod. He looked back at the two kids. "Yeah, we are."

"Then go get them…"she smiled a bit, sitting back on the couch with her brother.

Sam turned to Bridget, "Let's go get them then…"

She followed him outside, closing the door and grabbing her cell phone from her pocket, hoping she wasn't too late because knowing Dean, he hadn't stayed put at the hotel. Bridget hit speed dial, hoping he would pick up. She knew he had his phone near him, he'd be waiting for his dad. "Hello?" his voice came on the other end.

"Oh thank God you answered, babe. It's not your Dad calling or Derek or any of these people's loved ones."

"Then what is it?"

"It's a Crocotta," she said and looked at Sam. He nodded, conforming he thought it was the same thing.

She could almost hear him frown on the other end, "Is that a sandwich?"

"No, hun, it's a scavenger of sorts. It mimics loved ones and tells then 'come to me' and lores them to their death to swallow their souls."

He nodded, "A crocotta, right, damn that makes sense."

"I'm sorry, babe. I know…I wanted it to be Derek, too…"

"Hey, don't these things live in filth?"

"Yeah, they do…why?"

"Bridget…Stewie is at the phone company…"

"Stewie…what's he doing there?"

"I'm betting he's feeding…you and Sam get down here quick, babe. Move that cute ass of yours quick."

"On our way," she hit end call and looked at Sam.

"Stewie?" he repeated. "Really?"

"Always the slime ball you least expect…" she shook her head and got in the car.

* * *

Bridget and Sam peeked through the window, seeing Stewie inside at his console. Luckily, his pants were buttoned and she didn't have to see more than she hoped for. "Well, he's here…but where's Dean?" She asked Sam.

He shrugged, pocketing his phone, "He's not answering."

"That's weird…" she said and pondered it for a moment. Why wouldn't Dean be here? It wasn't like him and the more she thought about it, the more it didn't feel right. A loud banging noise drew her attention from her thoughts and she looked through the window watching as Stewie reacted to it too and left the room he was in. She followed Sam around the back, down the alley to the edge of the building, peeking around the corner. Stewie came out of the building, heading towards his beat up car, glancing around in the dark as he did so.

Sam was quick to move without even warning her and she huffed in his hastiness. He rushed Stewie, throwing him into the car, holding the spike to his neck before she could even get near. "I know what you are."

"What the hell?" Stewie grunted.

"I know what you are," he repeated as Bridget got closer.

She could see the genuine fear in Stewie's eyes as he whimpered. "Wait, mister."

She frowned, this wasn't right. Something wasn't right. Demons and creatures could lie, but usually not create such an honest look of fear.

"I know how to kill you," Sam said.

"Sam…I don't think he's it…" Bridget shook her head with a frown.

"Please. Okay, wait, wait. If we're overcharging you for the call waiting or something I...I can fix that. I am your friend!"

Sam frowned to and Bridget felt the ring on her necklace vibrate. A moment later she felt a sharp pain in her head as her vision darkened and felt herself fall, vaguely aware of Sam falling a second later. Then she wasn't aware of anything

Bridget blinked her eyes a few times and winced at the massive headache she was feeling. The persistent nudging next to her had woken her up and she painfully turned her head to the side, seeing Sam next to her. "Oww…" she mumbled.

"You okay?" he whispered back.

She didn't have time to answer as she focused on Clark, the manger from the phone company, walking towards a crying pleading Stewie with a knife in hand.

"Don't do it!" She yelled.

Clark swiveled around and smiled at the two of them. "You guys are awake."

Stewie was crying in the chair across from them, "You're not a killer Clark, no! There's a good man inside of you, I know it."

"What do you two think? Am I a good man?"

"Just let him go," Sam pleaded. "He's got nothing to do with this."

He smiled, "I would. I really would. If only I'd had more than a salad for lunch. You see, I'm starving." He plunged the knife he was holding into Stewie's chest and Bridget flinched as Sam screamed, "NO!"

Clark moved in front of Stewie, opening his mouth and revealing sharp razor point teeth. He unhinged his jaw, making it snake like wide and moved to the man's face, sucking the energy out of him in a ball of light. Sam looked away as Bridget watched, disgusted. Clark put his jaw back in place, his mouth becoming normal as he spun on his heel to face them with a grin as if expecting cheers for a magic trick.

Bridget shook her head, "That was you on the phone. Not Dean."

He shrugged as if it were nothing, "Some calls I make, some calls I take, but you have to admit, I had you fooled for a while. All that Edison phone crap." He laughed and moved over the phone exchange cabinet and put his hands on it, smiling in enjoyment.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked him.

"I'm killing your brother. Or maybe I'm killing another guy. We'll just have to see how it goes."

He removed his hands a moment later and strolled back over to Stewie's body, removing the knife from his chest.

Bridget shook her head, "You know, mimicking Dean's one thing. But my brother and John. That's a hell of a trick right there."

"Well, once I made you three as hunters, it was easy. I found Dean's number, then your number, then John's numbers and even your brother's old number. Then emails, voicemails, everything. You see, people think that stuff just gets erased, but it doesn't. You'd be surprised how much of yourself is just floating out there, waiting to be plucked. Though you were way harder to fool, Bridget."

"I'm not a sucker for suckers," she shrugged.

"Dean's not going to fall for this. He's not going to kill that guy," Sam told him.

"Then that guy is going to kill him," Clark said.

Clark came closer and Bridget struggled more to get out of her bindings as he stood over the two of them, she had most of her hand out, just needed another minute to get the other, "Technology. Makes life so much easier. Used to be I'd hide in the woods for days, weeks, whispering to people, trying to draw them out into the night. But they had community, they all looked out for each other, I'd be lucky to eat one or two souls a year. Now when I'm hungry, I simply make a phone call," he sneered. "You're all so connected. But you've never been so alone."

He unhinged his jaw and leaned in closer to her. Bridget's eyes widened and she turned her face away. Sam leapt from his chair and tackled Clark, having already managed to get out of his bindings, Bridget took the moment to wiggle her arm out of the one holding her right wrist. She yanked and felt her wrist move freely then slid across the floor for the knife Clark had dropped. Clark managed to get it first and his fist slammed into the side of her face sending her back. He tried leaping at her while she was down, but Sam yanked him back by his neck and Clark struggled with the younger Winchester. Bridget sat up, slightly dazed from her second blow to the head. She stood up and wobbled, watching as Sam got knocked back by Clark who stood up with the knife in hand, determined to kill Sam. Bridget felt that stirring in her again as she had a few times before, something in her, flowing through her and she looked past Clark at the corkboard behind him and the spikes that were on it. Her necklace felt warm but whatever was stirring inside her felt warmer.

"No!" she yelled and put her hand out, feeling the power that was in her shoot through her. An invisible force hit Clark and he sailed into the wall six feet behind him, a spike going through his neck, killing him.

Bridget let out a deep breath, dropping her hand and feeling the warmth and power calm down, like a switch being turned off. Sam turned over and looked at her, "What was that?"

"Me, saving your ass," she moved to him and gave him her hand, helping him up.

"But what is it?" he asked, rubbing his head. "I've seen you do it before."

She shrugged, "I don't know. But it doesn't feel evil and its not demonic, so we will worry about it another day…let's find Dean and get out of here."

"Where do you think he is?" Sam asked as they got in the car.

She felt her necklace pulse slightly and knew, "He'll be back at the hotel."

"You sure."

"I'm always sure even though I never know why."

* * *

The two walked through the front door of the room, relieved to see Dean sitting on the bed with an ice pack to his face and a cut above his eyebrow. He snickered at them, "I see they improved your faces."

Bridget sat next to him on the bed, taking his ice pack and putting it on the back of her head where it hurt the most. She winced, "Look who's talking."

"That was mine," he pouted trying to get it back, but she moved and kissed him. "Mine now. Sharing is caring and I got hit with a bat."

Dean eyed Sam and his bloody lip. "You let her get hit with a bat."

Sam sat on the bed across from him with a wince of his own. "Hey, I at least didn't let her get eaten by a crocotta."

"Sounds like a damn Pokemon," he said, getting another ice bag from the freezer and tossing one to his brother before sitting next to Bridget again. She was laying down and he put his arm on her shoulder and lifted her up against her will, "You got a head injury, no sleeping."

She groaned, "I'll show you head injury…"

"I got another idea of something we can do to keep you awake," he told her, patting her thigh.

Sam scrunched his face, "Ewww."

"I was thinking food first," Dean huffed then thought about it.

Bridget saw it cross his face, "Don't even think of sex right now."

He licked the inside of his lip, "Maybe later. But there's a burger joint next door."

She groaned again, "I really don't feel like sitting in a diner full of people."

"I was thinking Sammy goes to get the food," Dean tossed him a twenty from his wallet.

Sam grabbed it and gave him a look. "Why always me?"

"Because you got her hit with a baseball bat."

"I got hit too!"

"I saved your ass last minute from being a closed casket," Bridget reminded him.

Sam sighed and put his ice pack on the night stand, with a sigh he stood up. "Fine. But you both better have your clothes on when I get back. I don't want a repeat on the gnomes case."

Dean smiled fondly at the memory. "I'll do my best, but no guarantees."

"Jerk," he chuckled,

"Bitch," Dean said back as Sam closed the door on his way out. He glanced at Bridget, "So…a crocotta, huh?"

"Yup," she sighed.

"That explains the flies."

"Yeah it would," she removed the ice pack from her head. "Hey…I'm sorry it wasn't your Dad."

"I'm sorry I was such an ass."

"It's okay," she patted his leg.

"No, you were right."

"Forget about it."

"I can't. I wanted to believe so badly that there was a way outta this. I mean I'm staring down the barrel at this thing. You know, Hell. For real, forever, and I just..." he shook his head and looked away.

"What's wrong, babe?" Bridget asked.

"The truth is I'm scared, Bridge," Dean admitted to her, tears in his eyes.

"I am too," she told him, keeping her hand in his. "I'm trying everything I can to breach this damn contract…"

"I just…I wanted it so badly to be my dad…he always had the answers…"

"I wanted it to be Derek too…but it wasn't them. It was a really cruel monster and it's taken care of now," she touched his face with her other hand.

"I don't want to be alone…"

"You won't…you aren't. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, Dean. I swore I'd stay by your side and nothing will change that. I will fight for you until there's nothing left. Okay? I love you. I just found you and I won't lose you. They'll have one serious battle on their hands because I'll bring them hell if they take you."

"Bridge…"

"No, Dean. I'm not gonna lose you like I lost Will. I won't. Not now, not ever. Not when I'm finally happy because…" she paused finding it hard to express her emotions. "You make me happy…you always made me happy from the moment I met you and you make me happy now. Without you, I'm empty. I don't wanna feel that way ever again and my only regret was not realizing this sooner and thinking those feelings would go away, because they just get stronger every day. I love you more every day."

Dean was speechless for a moment and kissed her softly. "I'm scared to leave you…I had no reason when I made the deal. I just wanted Sam back for me and you…but then turns out you love me and I find out too late. Though I can't say I wouldn't have done it anyway. But now…now that I have you I don't wanna lose you, Bridge. Ever. I need to break this deal to stay with you because we haven't had enough time…which brings me to this…" he slid off the bed to land in front of her. "Marry me."

"What?" she breathed a whisper.

"Marry me, Bridget, please. I know I don't have a lotta time but the time I do have I want it to be with you and make it forever even if forever is two months away. I wouldn't ask you if I wasn't serious, you know that and it won't be the big expensive wedding you had planned with Will or the big diamond to go with it," he said and toyed with the plain band ring in his hand that was identical to the one he always wore. "But I can promise you one thing and that's that I never loved anyone as much as you. If I could give you those fancies things, I would. I'd suck it up and do it for you. And if this goes well, then I will marry you the right way when it's over but for-."

Bridget shut him up with a kiss, going up on her knees to wrap her arms around him, kissing him with a smile. She parted away from him. He seemed stunned. "That a yes?"

"I was going to say yes the moment you asked me until you rambled on, yes, I'll marry you," she said with a nod.

He grinned ear to ear and stood up, pulling her up with him. He kissed her more hungrily than before and, for a minute, they thought the honeymoon would start early. Sam entered the room though, pausing in the doorway. "Uhh…least you still have your clothes on this time? You want me to give you an hour or something?"

Dean broke the kiss and grabbed Bridget's hand. "Nope, come on. Get your stuff and get in the car. We're going to City Hall."

"What? Why?" Sam asked following them out after grabbing their bags.

"Because we're getting married," Dean answered.

"What? Now?"

"Do you know of a better time?"

"Well, no, it's just so sudden and it's kinda late. They don't open for another two hours."

"Well, I'm Mr. Spontaneous and time isn't on my side," he shrugged and got into the car. Bridget sat in the middle between the two, her stuff thrown in the back.

"Where we going?"

"Well…I think we can get to Vegas in good time. Easiest place to get married."

"Really?" Sam asked with a smile and shake of his head.

"Any other ideas?"

"Nope Vegas it is."

Less than a day later they were in Vegas, Nevada. For once Dean didn't care for the gambling, the all you could eat buffets, or the fliers for show girls. His eyes were only on the one girl in front of him in the blue and white summer dress with her dark hair down and pinned back with blue flowers as she grinned at him. His brother by his side in a suit much like his but they weren't pretending to be FBI agents. At least not today.

"Do you, Bridget, take Dean to be you're lawfully wedded husband, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in help, for better or worse, 'til death do you part?" the man asked. He had been a little bummed about not getting Elvis to marry them, but Bridget had given him that look he'd grown used to and knew not to press it any further. If she couldn't have her dream wedding, he gave her this.

Bridget smiled at him, "No," she finished before anyone could react. "I take him for much, much longer."

The pastor smiled in relief and looked at Dean, "And do you, Dean, take Bridget to be your lawfully wedded wife, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, 'til death do you part…and for much, much longer?" he added on with a wink at Bridget.

Dean nodded, "I do."

"Then by the power invested in me I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride." And he did. He kissed her and held onto her and Bridget never wanted the moment to end and the thought of it ending in a couple months was the furthest thing from her mind. At least for today.


	39. S3 Time Is On My Side

A/N: Soooo sorry for the long delay. I have no excuses. Hopefully I can get these out faster before my next semester starts and I get swamped again. Be patient with me and enjoy.

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing. The idea of Bridget came from watching Dean/Brooke/Sam videos on youtube so I used her as the model for the character and can't take credit for her either. This follows the ep mostly except for a few added parts. Enjoy.

* * *

**S3 EP59 (CH39) TIME IS ON MY SIDE**

The demon screamed again as Dean splashed holy water across its face. Bridget watched placidly from the wall with no worries. They were in an old cabin in the middle of nowhere so no one would hear him scream. They had captured him because they needed answers. The clock was ticking and they were running out of time to save Dean.

"You ready to talk?" Bridget asked him when the screaming quieted.

"I don't know anything," he shrieked, tied down to the chair.

"Oh, you hear that Sammy," Dean smiled at his brother. "He doesn't know anything."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, I heard."

"I'm telling you the truth."

Dean put a hand to his chest, "Oh, you are? My God, then I owe you an apology. Allow me to make it up to you," he forced more holy water down his throat. "Now tell me, who holds my contract?"

The demon laughed, eyes going black. "Your mother. Yeah, she, uh, showed it to me right before I bent her over."

"I want a name or else…" Dean trailed off.

"Or what? You're gonna squirt your holy water in both ends? Please. Brother, that's like a fleabite compared to what's coming to me if I tell you jack. Do what you want. The only thing I'm scared of is the demon holding your ticket."

Dean nodded at Sam and Bridget watched as her brother in law recited the exorcism. She pushed off from the wall, walking closer as the demon twitched in pain. "How does that feel? Feel good?"

"Go ahead. Send me back to hell... 'Cause when you get there, I'll be waiting for you...with a few pals who are dying for a nice little meet and greet with Dean Winchester."

Sam paused and looked to Bridget and Dean. "Should I?"

Bridget nodded, "Yeah. Send him someplace he can't hurt anyone else." And the demon just kept on screaming into the empty night until the black cloud left the body and was no more. Out of habit, Bridget checked for a pulse, but the host was dead to no surprise. People rarely survived being taken over by a demon. She looked over at the two. "He's dead."

Sam nodded, "You two want to bury the body and I'll see what I can find and I'll call Bobby."

"Whoa, why do we have to bury the body? Bridget's just as capable of doing the book work and calling Bobby," Dean pointed out.

Bridget frowned, "Why would I have to do all the book work and call?"

"Well, you're so good at it, honey, plus I'm the one dying, I should get a break?"

"Unless I'm breaking your arm, you could help."

"Which is why you two should do the digging as husband and wife," Sam added.

Dean held his fist out, "Play you for it."

Bridget groaned inwardly and started walking to the door to get the shovels out of the car. Dean never won rock, paper, scissors against his brother because he always picked scissors and Sam knew it as well as Bridget. She heard Dean curse behind her and Sam chuckle, "Have fun, bend with the knees." She sighed, knowing it would be no different.

An hour or so later they came back into the cabin, sweaty and dirt covered. Bridget felt as if she needed a two hour shower to ever feel clean again with dirt in places she didn't think possible.

"You two bury the body?" Sam asked hanging up his phone.

Bridget blew a loose strand of hair from her face that had fallen out of her pony tail. "Yeah, no help from you."

"I was doing important stuff."

"Yeah, well, next time I'll make the calls and you bury the body with your brother. I swear these demons wear these people out for kicks," she plopped down on the couch next to her husband. It still felt weird for her to even think it. This was one thing she never predicted. Marrying Dean Winchester. It still made her smile.

"So what was the phone call about?" Dean asked, guzzling down a beer from the cooler.

"Remember that thing in the paper yesterday?" Sam asked.

"Stripper suffocates dude with thighs?"

Bridget rolled her eyes, "I don't think it's that one, dear."

"The other thing," Sam told him.

"Ohhh right, the guy that walks into the E.R. and kneels over dead. His stomach's ripped out?

"His liver, actually. Anyways, I just found out something pretty damn interesting," Sam said.

"Well, don't keep us in suspense. Please reveal the big news you found out while I buried a body of a demon host," Bridget said plainly, hating when he stopped on the edge of something to say just to get a reaction.

He rolled his eyes at her, "The body was covered in fingerprints that didn't belong to the victim."

"Okay, great. My man Dave Caruso will be stoked to hear it," Dean smirked.

"I'm not done. The fingerprints match a guy that died in 1981."

Bridget nodded, "See, now that is interesting. Why can't you just get to the fun part? Dead guys fingerprints in dead man's body. We looking at zombies or something here?"

He shrugged, "Maybe."

Dean stood and threw his empty can in the trash, "Zombies do like the other white meat. Huh. Speaking of, what do you care about zombies?"

"What do you mean?"

Dean leaned over the back of the couch, "Well, you've been on soul-saving detail for months now. And we're three weeks out, and all of a sudden, you're interested in some hot zombie action?"

Sam got defensive, it was his mechanism when Dean was getting on to something. He'd ump straight into turning the very thing around on the other person, "Hey, man, you're the one who's been all gung ho to hunt. I just thought I'd be doing you a favor."

"Hey, no, no, no, no, no. I didn't say I didn't want to do it, okay. I mean obviously I want to hunt some zombies." Then Dean would agree with whatever Sam had said as it was turned back around on him just to avoid another blow up explosion on what was the inevitable truth – that they were out of options on Dean's contract and his time was nearly up and no one knew how to cope with what they were feeling.

"Okay, fine, whatever." Which seemed to be the only way to express what they all felt.

* * *

Questioning the coroner to get closer to the body seemed like the only step they should take, which meant posing as cops once more. Getting in was never the hard part. Flash a badge at the front desk while dressed in a suit and tie, or Bridget's case, a pant suit and blouse, and you always got passed the front desk that was too busy to follow any type of procedure. And with a dead man with a missing liver who keeled over in the lobby, procedure was thrown out the window because who would be trying to get a closer look for the hell of it? It wasn't exactly like they were trying to rob a bank or see the Crown Jewels, it was just another dead body…but it was what that body would tell them that was the jewel in itself and the vault they wanted into.

The coroner went on, "Yeah, the rest of the body was intact. The liver was the only organ missing."

Dean cleared his throat and they knew this wasn't going to be good, "Now, where the liver was ripped out, did you happen to notice any...ah...teeth marks?"

Bridget closed her eyes and even felt Sam stiffen next to her. They shouldn't let Dean speak sometimes. The coroner looked at him, mouth slightly a gap at Dean's weirdness. "Can I see your badges?"

"Yes, sure," Bridget unfolded her wallet and Sam and Dean did the same.

The coroner nodded, still looking at Dean, "Fine, you're cops and morons."

"Excuse me?" Dean said offended. "No, no, we're very smart."

Bridget stepped up then, pulling Dean back a bit, "The test isn't as hard as it used to be apparently, and what our partner here is trying to ask is, was the liver ripped out with force, taken out in pieces, or cut out? Just want to be sure everything in the report is accurate."

He rolled his eyes, obviously getting irritated with them. "The liver was not ripped out. It was removed. Surgically. By someone who knew their way around a scalpel. Didn't you read my report?"

Dean spoke up, "Of course we did. Oh, it was riveting. It was a real page-turner, just delightful."

"You done?" the coroner asked, glaring at Dean.

"I think so," Sam said before Dean could open his mouth and started leading his brother out the door.

"Then please go away," the coroner said.

"No problem," Bridget said, following them out the door to the hallway. Sam was grinning as they walked.

"What are you smiling about?" Dean asked him.

"Nothing. So, that kind of punches a hole in our zombie theory, huh, that scalpel thing?"

He chuckled, "Yeah, a zombie with skills. Like Dr. Quinn, medicine zombie."

"Maybe we're on the wrong track," Bridget suggested, lips pursued as she thought about it.

"What's going on in that pretty head, babe?"

"I don't think we're looking for zombies," she said. "I think we're looking for an organ thief."

Sam nodded, following her train of thought. "We shouldn't be looking for lunch corpses…we need to look for survivors."

"And we're in the right place to look," Dean said. "Sammy, see if you can smart talk the nurse for a few of the files on patients with missing organs in this place."

"Smart talk?" Sam repeated with a smile.

Dean rolled his eyes and gestured him to hurry, "You know what I mean, just go."

Sam walked off to the nurses station for the files while Dean and Bridget hung back waiting for him. Dean glanced over at Bridget, taking in her heels and pant suit and stopping on the ring on her left hand. The one he placed on there only a month ago. His mouth twitched into a smile at the thought of her being an official Winchester, but it sank as quick as it had come. He'd be leaving her alone just as Will had in only a few weeks. He'd be leaving her to the same heartache she had felt years before and he'd be leaving her alone again. As much as he hoped and wished that he could get out of his fatal contract, he knew it would be to no avail and the end was near. He wanted to be sure she'd be okay and taken care of, he _needed _to be sure.

"Bridge, you wanna find an empty janitor's closet, fool around a little? I haven't done it in a hospital before," he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She batted his arm, "We're working…but I did steal some of those rubber gloves for later?"

He eyed her with a raised eyebrow, "You're not carrying a purse, where'd you hide them?"

She smiled at him in a way that made his heart beat faster, "You can frisk me later and find out."

"Sounds like a plan," he had to add it in whether she liked it or not, "And we need to talk."

Her voice dropped and he saw her eyes dim, "About what?"

"You know about what?"

Her shoulders hunched a little and she turned her body away from his, starting to shut down the same way Sammy did. "No, we don't need to."

"Yes, we do. You know we do. It's important, Bridge. I need to make sure-"

"You don't need to make sure of anything," she cut him off. "Because everything will be fine. Sam and I have got this, we'll figure it out."

"I don't want you to be alone," he through in before she could shut him out.

Bridget faltered and took a deep breath, "I won't be…I'll have you there."

"Bridge…"

"Dean, please…we'll figure this out."

"Figure what out?" Sam asked as he stepped back in from getting the files.

"This case," Bridget was quick to cover and the dimness in her eyes was nearly gone as she brushed a strand of hair casually from her face. "It's a killer. Did you find anything interesting?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Sam nodded and handed her a file. She opened it looking it over.

"That is interesting…and it happened yesterday…"

"Well, let's go talk to him," Dean said. "He can't be much worse than the coroner was."

And oh, how Dean was wrong. The man in the hospital bed was anything but happy to see the police in his room again as he lay there pale and pissed. "I told the cops all of this yesterday. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"It's just a couple questions, sir," Sam tried reassuring him.

He glared at Sam, dark spots under his eyes, "Hey, man. I just got my kidney stolen. I'm tired."

Dean held his hand up, "We'll be out of here quick. Don't you want to get the guy?"

"Will it get me my kidney back?" he shot back.

Dean sighed and Bridget cut in. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Bridget seemed to have a semi calming effect on him. Once she stood forward to ask he seemed to relax back into the bed a bit, probably because she was a female and seemed more nurturing than Sam or Dean. "Feeding my meter. I got jumped from behind...and then I wake up strapped to a table. And then the worst pain you could possibly imagine, only worse. And then I black out again. Thank God. And then I wake up screaming in some no-tell motel in a bathtub full of ice."

Dean tried again, asking a question, "Do you remember anything about the surgery – you know, what the guy looked like, any details about the room?"

And the attitude came back. It was definitely because Bridget was a girl, "Let me think about that. Yeah...one thing is coming back to me. You know what I remember? Getting my kidney cut out of my body!"

* * *

They had left patient zero at that. He wasn't going to be much more help in his angry state of mind and the hotel was the next place to stop to dig up more things on the computer and to change out of her pant suit that was driving her crazy and back into her denim skirt and boots since the weather was finally nice enough to shave her legs and show them off. Dean came back in the room with food, sitting at the table across from Sam, digging into a burger while she and her brother in law were quick at work on their laptops as usual.

"So, I got a theory," Sam said.

Bridget took a bite of the chili cheese fries next to her as she clicked on her computer, "Which would be?"

"Yeah, I talked to Mr. Giggle's doctor. Turns out his incisions were sewn up with silk."

"That's weird," Dean said with a mouth full.

"Well, nowadays it is, but silk used to be the suture of choice back in the early 19th century. It was really problematic. Patients would get massive infections. The death rate was insane."

"Good times," Dean nodded.

"Right, so doctors, they had to do whatever they could to keep infections from spreading. One way was maggots."

Dean made a face, "Dude, I'm eating!"

Bridget smiled and added on to what Sam was saying, "Funny, you say that because it actually kind of worked because maggots eat bad tissue, and they leave good tissue."

Sam nodded and pointed at her as Dean looked greener, "And get this. When they found our guy, his body cavity was stuffed full of maggots."

"I'm eating!" he put down his burger, pretty sure he was done with it now. "Alright, let me get this straight. So, people are getting ganked, right?"

"Yeah."

"A little antiques road show surgery, some organ theft. But why is this all sounding familiar?"

Sam nodded at him, "Because you heard it before. When you were a kid... from Dad. Doc Benton...real-life doctor, lived in New Hampshire, brilliant and obsessed with alchemy, especially how to live forever. So, in 1816, Doc abandons his practice and…"

"Right, yeah, nobody hears from him for like 20 years, and all of sudden, people start showing up dead."

"You guys had some twisted bed time stories," Bridget shook her head, finishing her fries as she listened.

"You have no idea," Sam told her. "And they wound up dead or – or missing an organ or the hand or some other kind of part."

"Cause whatever he was doing was actually working. He just kept on ticking. Parts would wear out, he'd replace them. But I thought Dad hunted him down and took his heart out," Dean asked.

"Yeah, I guess the Doc must have plugged in a new one."

"Since we might have a name we just need to figure out where he's doing this stuff?" Bridget questioned.

Sam gestured at his laptop screen, "According to this, Benton's picky about where he sets up his lab. He likes dense forest with access to a river or stream or some kind of freshwater."

"Why?" she frowned as Dean went back to his burger.

"Because that's where he likes to dump the bile and intestines and fecal matter," Sam smiled slyly as Dean once again dropped the burger and gagged. "Lost your appetite yet?"

Dean glanced at Sam then back at the burger then back at Sam. Bridget stared with a grin, waiting to see what would happen. Dean looked back at the burger and took a bite out of it, "Oh baby, I can't stay mad at you."

She tisked, "Food always wins with you."

"I know, between this and sex, I'm not sure which one would win."

"Food," Sam said at the same time Bridget said, "sex".

Dean nodded as Sam got up to search through his duffel bag, "See what I mean? No one can call it."

Bridget pursued her lips, "Which one could you not live without?"

Dean stopped chewing and his eyes widened, "Don't stress me out like that…I…I can't make those decisions."

"It's not that hard," she said.

"Really? That's like asking me to choose between Playboy and Busty Asian Beauties."

Her eyes narrowed, "Do you still look at those?"

His face flushed a bit and he stuffed his mouth with food, "No…"

Luckily Sam had come back to the bed Bridget sat on with a map he laid out for them. "So these are all the cabins. Most of them have been abandoned for years."

"So what he hell are we waiting for?"

Before either of them could speak, Dean's phone rang. It was Bobby. He clicked answer. "Bobby?"

"Hey. Think I finally got a lead on Bela," he said on the other end.

"I'm listening," he said with interest.

"Rufus Turner," Bobby said and Bridget and Sam could hear most of the other end from the volume being high on his phone.

"Who's that? Like a Cleveland steamer?" Dean asked.

"He's a hunter, or he used to be."

"And now…"

"Hermit mostly. Does a little selling on the side. Anyway. I put the word out on Bela months ago. He just called. Said a woman got in touch, wanted to buy some things."

Bridget glanced at Sam and mouthed the name she thought she heard, "Bela."

He nodded his head, both watching Dean.

"And he thinks it's Bela?" Dean asked, confirming Bridget's suspicions.

"British accent, went by the name Mina Chandler."

"She's used that before. Well, it's kinda of a sloppy move, isn't it? Getting in contact with one of your old friends."

"Friend? Haven't laid eyes on him in fifteen years. He's not the Christmas card type. I doubt she knows I know him. Canaan, Vermont."

"Thanks, Bobby. We're on our way."

Bridget's eyes widened. Who was "we"? They had something going on here and couldn't go chasing Bela around on what might be her.

Dean hung up and stood up. "Okay, let's go."

"What? Whoa, hang on a second," Bridget held her hands up.

"Come on, the clock's ticking," Dean was already shoving stuff in his duffel bag, his mind clearly made up.

"Bridget's right," Sam said. "I think we should stay here and finish the case."

Dean paused to look at them both and saw they were serious, "You both insane?"

"Dean, there's no way she still has the Colt! That was months ago. She probably sold it the second she got it," Bridget told him.

He shrugged, "Well, then I'll kill her. Win-win."

"Dean…" Sam started.

"We're going!" he barked.

"No!" Sam yelled back.

"Why the hell not?"

Sam pointed at the map, "Dean, this is what's going to save you."

This time Bridget frowned, she had no idea what Sam was talking about. She wanted to stay to save people from being dead organ donors, she wasn't sure what Sam meant. "What do you mean?"

"Immortality," Sam said and Bridget fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Look, Benton can't die. We find out how he did it, we can do it to you."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.  
"You have to die before you go to hell, right? So, if you can never die, then..."

Dean held up his hand stopping him, "Wait, wait, wait. Wait a second. Did you know that this was Doc Benton from the jump?"

"No," Sam said.

"Really?" Bridget narrowed her eyes and tilted her head slightly.

Sam looked defeated. "Okay, I had hoped it was him."

"So, the whole zombie thing , it was a lie?" Dean asked.

Sam defended himself before Dean could lay into him. "I didn't wanna say anything until I was sure, Dean. All I'm trying to do is find an answer here."

Dean shook his head, "No. What you're trying to do is chase Slicy McHackey here. And to kill him? No. You wanna buy him a freaking beer. You wanna study him."

"I was just trying to help," he claimed.

He pointed at his brother, "You're not helping! You forget that if I welch on this deal, you die. Guess what, living forever is welching."

"Fine! Then whatever his magic pill is, I'll take it too," Sam yelled back.

Bridget butted in. "Wow! Who are you guys? Sid and Nancy? I want to do this to _help_ people and stop this crazy ass Doc from slicing up more people because he's _evil_. Or did you two forget that that is what we do? We help people. Not for our own gain, but because it's the right thing to do and because we can. We don't dump off and leave them to die to this monster," she looked at Dean then turned to Sam. "And we don't do it to capture him and learn how to be just like him. We do it because it's what we do. So get your heads out of your asses and knock this off."

Dean shook his head, "Well I say it's worth checking out. Now are you guys coming or not?"

Bridget bit her lip, "No…I'm staying."

Sam nodded, "I'm staying too."

Dean grabbed his bag and moved to the door. Neither his brother or wife moved to go with him. He paused long enough to look at them, "Bridge…Sammy…be careful."

"You too," Bridget said quietly.

The door closed quietly and they could hear the Impala start and take off down the road. With a sigh Sam looked at Bridget scratching the back of his head, "Shall we get going on this…"

Bridget sat on the edge of the bed. "Maybe wait til daylight. Something about venturing into the woods to catch a guy who likes to slice up people just doesn't appeal to me at this late at night…plus we'll need a rental car."

Sam sat on the other bed and flicked on the TV. "Good idea…". Neither spoke to the other, the awkwardness was too much for small talk. She was well aware she was alone with her brother in law who, at one point, was her boyfriend until he needed a "break" and ended up sleeping with what turned out to be a werewolf chick. She had never really been alone with Sam after that point and though she had moved on from the hurt, the questions as to why it had all happened lingered in her mind. She loved Dean, but even now she was hurting that he left them behind to chase after a blind shot in the dark and didn't contemplate the innocents he was leaving to be slaughtered by a mad man. Her mix of emotions was becoming too much to bare.

"I need to ask you something," she said out loud, staring at her ring as she twisted it on her finger.

The TV volume lowered a bit. "Go ahead."

She pressed her lips tightly together, not sure if she should ask. She took a deep breath, "Do you think it was a mistake…me marrying Dean?"

There was a brief pause of silence which was all she needed to hear before Sam replied back. "No."

"You hesitated, Sam. You never hesitate unless you're thinking of a different answer," she pointed out to him, eyes shooting to him across on the other bed.

She watched him swallow hard before sighing and looking at her, running a hand over his face. "No, I don't think it was a mistake…I just think it was too soon. I think you both let your emotions get the best of you and got caught up in the moment with everything that is going on. Marrying him isn't going to save him, Bridge. It may give you both a piece of mind but it won't save him."

"I know that," she nodded but couldn't disagree with the hastiness in which they married.

"And Dean is…well Dean…he will always run off and do things he thinks is right and screw everyone else…obviously," he smirked and even she smiled but it faltered a bit as another thought crossed her mind.

"You don't think…" she paused.

Sam looked at her with concern as she chewed her lower lip. "Think what, Bridge?"

"That Dean will be…well Dean when it comes to other women…that he realizes he's married."

Sam nodded in understanding of her question. He wasn't sure how to answer that. Dean had never had a normal relationship in his life and wasn't sure if his brother even knew that marriage meant one woman forever. Bridget had enough hurt in her life from the Winchester family and Dean was the only one who hadn't screwed her over yet. He hoped, for her sake as well as their teams, that his brother realized that. "Honestly, I don't know," he said and added more as he saw her close her eyes to the answer. "But I think he's realizing what all this means still and I think he won't do anything to hurt you. I'm sorry I did. I can never apologize enough for that or explain it away because it's not justifiable. I screwed up, that was my fault and I lost out and have to live with that. Dean knows what he has and I don't think he'll throw it away because he knows he loves you…"

Bridget nodded her head with a small smile. "Thanks Sam…"

"You're welcome," he turned the television back up before he could say anymore on the matter that would make things even more awkward. They both sat there watching TV but neither focusing on what was on. Bridget's thoughts were too caught up in Dean and Sam was too caught up in hoping Dean didn't screw it up as he had.

* * *

They pulled the rental Honda over to the side of the dirt road. Bridget lifted her sunglasses to look. "Is this the place?"

Sam nodded, looking at his map. "Looks like." He sighed and opened the car door. "Shall we then."

Bridget slid a silver dagger into her boot and grabbed a gun from the duffel bag in the back. She put the extra ammo in the back pocket of her skirt and nodded. "Now I am."

"Ladies first," he gestured towards the forest.

She shook her head, "I'm good, you go. I got your back."

He rolled his eyes as they ventured into the forest towards the cabin.

A couple hours later, it was dark and Bridget was pissed as she zipped up her jacket that they didn't start earlier. The last thing she wanted was to be in these woods when it was this dark, but that was how horror movies went. It just had to be dark or it wouldn't work.

Sam put a hand out, stopping her. She looked at him and he pointed. She followed his finger to the cabin. They had finally reached it. She nodded and they moved forward. Sam lifted the window open and quietly climbed in helping Bridget in behind him. He scanned around with his flashlight and Bridget spotted something on the table. It was a journal. She skimmed through it and showed it to Sam. He nodded and she tucked it into her jacket. Sam pointed at the cellar door and she gave him wide eyes and slightly shook her head.

He rolled his eyes, "Is your necklace sensing anything bad?"

She touched it. It was still cool and not vibrating. "No."

"Then let's go," he whispered back and opened the door.

With a sigh of defeat, Bridget followed him down the stairs into the dark cellar. The first thing she noticed was the dead man on the operating table in front of them and, by the smell, he'd been dead for awhile. A rustling noise drew their attention to a raggedy curtain. Bridget held her gun up and Sam slowly moved the curtain aside to find a woman strapped to another table. Bridget stepped closer and noticed the maggots on her arms, she had skin peeled off them. Sam leaned in to check her pulse and both of them jumped as her eyes snapped open. Sam put a finger to her lips and covered her mouth with his other hand to keep her from screaming as Bridget undid the straps, handing him a rag for her arm.

"Shh! Shh! Shh! It's okay. We're here to help you. We're here to help you. We're gonna help you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Sam told her in a hushed voice and she seemed to relax when she realized they weren't going to hurt her.

"Sam, we gotta go before he gets back," Bridget told him. As if on cue they could hear a rustling up stairs. Bridget looked up then back at him. "And we have to go now!" Bridget moved to the window in the cellar and slid it open, climbing out and turning around to help the woman out then Sam. They were quick to start running. He'd notice his victim was gone in a few minutes and no one wanted to be near the cabin at that point. It had seemed to take longer to get there than to get to the car. Bridget helped Sam put the woman in the back seat and jumped into the driver's side.

"Let's go, Sam," she said, gun in hand, watching the woods as Sam started the car. Bridget looked back at the woman, who was crouched in the far corner of the car. "You're gonna be okay." She turned back to Sam and gasped seeing Benton standing right outside the driver's window. He reached in and grabbed at Sam. The woman screamed and Bridget took aim as he slammed Sam's head into the steering wheel. Once he was out of the way, she took her shot, hitting Benton in the chest as Sam hit the gas pedal, running over Benton before they sped off. She looked behind them to see Benton still lying on the ground. Once he was out of view did she look back at Sam and see the blood dripping down his face from where he connected with the steering wheel. "Shit, you're bleeding."

"I'm fine," he brushed her off. "Let's just get out of here before we worry about that."

They were back at the hotel in under an hour, after dropping the woman off at the hospital and making a hasty retreat before anyone could ask question. Bridget was able to patch up Sam's head. It wasn't stitches worthy, but he'd have a bruise and a nice headache to go with it.

"Ow," he winced as she added the last band aid stitch to it.

"Quit being a baby, you've had so much worse than this."

"You have your head slammed into a steering wheel next time," he muttered as she put her first aide kit away.

"You insisted on driving," she shrugged. Sam's phone rang and Bridget grabbed it. It was Dean.

"Hello," she answered.

"Bridget?"

"Were you expecting someone else," she snorted. Sam looked at her with a frown and she mouthed Dean's name. He nodded with a wince and signaled he'd talk to him in a moment as he fished around for the bottle of aspirin in his bag.

"Just Sammy."

"He's getting his aspirin for the giant headache he's bound to have any moment. Probably more so after any conversation you two have since I'm highly doubting Bela had the Colt."

"How'd you know?"

"Bela isn't the most reliable person and I don't she held onto that Colt any longer than she held on to her own virginity," she snipped. Sam snorted near the dresser, having found his pain killers and was looking at the journal they took.

"Well aren't you in a good mood."

"Just get your ass back here. We got a monster to kill and he's probably getting really pissed by now," she told him.

"You found him?"

"Yeah, here Sam will fill you in," she handed the phone to him. It didn't take long for the arguing to begin between the two and she went into the bathroom with a shake of her head. It was a deal from hell, that was for sure and it was only going to end with Dean in hell. Then where would she be…besides alone. She wasn't sure if she and Sam could survive without Dean. It would shatter Sam, she knew that much. He wouldn't be the same. She wasn't sure about herself, her mind wouldn't let her think about it. She had lost so much already, adding Dean to it…she wasn't sure at all. Bridget touched her necklace. It was feeling warm against her skin which was unusual. It only did that when something bad was around. Then it pulsed…it only did that when someone she cared for was in danger and she noticed then she didn't hear Sam on the phone anymore. She came out of the bathroom to see Sam crumbled on the ground with Benton standing over him and could briefly hear Dean yelling over the phone for his brother. Bridget only had time to yell, "Sam!" She charged at Benton. He grabbed her by the throat and she scratched at him to no avail. He pulled her closer and she wanted to gag at the stench of his breath as he sniffed her. He looked at her with his scarred face, almost disappointed as he shook his head slightly. "I have no use for you." She felt his grip get tighter, he was going to kill her. Something in her awoke, a familiar feeling she had before as it filled her with a vibrating heat and her necklace started to glow. "What…" Benton managed before she released the power she felt, causing him to cry out as it shoved him back and he released her.

She coughed, trying to get in more air, leaning against the dresser. Benton growled, face drawn in anger and back handed her hard enough that her head connected with the dresser and she fell to the ground in a daze, vaguely aware of Dean's voice and through the blur of her vision she saw Benton drag Sam out of the room as Dean shouted her name from Sam's phone. "Dean…" she muttered before blacking out completely.

Bridget was aware of the soft pounding in her head as she started to become aware again. She could still hear Dean and wondered how long he was on the phone for. Something tapped at her face, caressing her cheek. "Bridge, Bridge, sweet heart, wake up. That's it, open your eyes babe," she could hear Dean as she blinked her eyes open and was able to focus Dean into one person instead of two. "Bridge, you with me, babe?"

"Dean?" she said his name, not sure if he was here or if she had hit her head that hard.

"It's me, let's sit you up," he put his arms around her helping her up as she winced and rubbed the back of her head. "Where's Sammy?"

"Bastard took him," she hissed in pain as he helped her to her feet and held onto her in case he fell.

Dean touched her neck where the fingerprints were starting to bruise, he tilted her head to see an equally dark mark forming on her cheek. "Did this bastard do this to your face?" he asked with a stony expression.

"Yeah," she touched her cheek. "He surprised me."

"But he didn't take you? Only Sam."

"He said he had no use for me," she said and pulled away to grab weapons out of her bag. "I think he meant I had nothing he wanted to use, but Sam does."

"Like Jeepers Creepers?"

"Exactly."

"We better stop him from eating Sam's peepers. You know how to get there?"

"Yes," she nodded, grabbing her gun. "Let's go kill this jackass for good."

* * *

They used the same window to get into the house that she and Sam had used hours earlier. Dean started heading for the cellar but Bridget paused long enough to study the bottles on the table that Doc Benton had. She picked up one, reading the label and found it to be chloroform, the same stuff he must have used on his victims to subdue them. It would have to work.

"Bridge," she heard Dean whisper impatiently.

She signaled him to wait a moment. She grabbed the knife out of her boot and poured it over the blade, careful not to splash herself and put it in her pocket. Then nodded, gun in one hand knife in the other as they descended the stairs.

Doc Benton was monologuing with Sam strapped to the table in front of him. Dean wasted no time in shooting Benton in the back before she could warn him that didn't work much. She managed to hop the rail and move into the shadow just as Benton turned around to smile crookedly at Dean. He held his arms up to his sides. "Shoot all you want."

Dean did, three more times to no avail as Doc Benton strolled up to him, grabbing Dean by the throat and throwing him across the room into the wall. He started walking towards Dean and Bridget took the moment to jump out at him, plunging the knife into his chest. He stumbled back staring at the knife then grinning at her as she helped Dean up. He laughed, "A knife? What part of immortality do you not understand? Pity about the heart, though. It was a brand-new one."

"Good, it should be pumping nice and strong," she pulled out the bottle chloroform. "And it'll send this stuff straight through your body. Picked up this little bottle upstairs…so I say it night time."

His smile faded and he collapsed. Bridget kicked him for good measure. "Bruise my neck and face, you ass." She helped Dean untie Sam and then to put Doc Benton up on the table and strap him in tightly. It wouldn't take long for it to wear off.

"You hurt?" Dean asked Sam.

He shook his head, "No, just have one bitch of a headache." He looked at Bridge. "What happened to your face?"

She gestured at Benton. "He did after he knocked you out with chloroform."

"That explains my headache being worse," he mumbled. "How'd you get away?"

She shrugged, "The unexplandable…as usual…it just…happened."

"My head hurts too much to even try figuring that out," Sam sighed.

"Whatever it was, it worked," Dean said and they noticed Benton begin to stir on the table. Dean leaned over him with a grin, "Oh, hiya, Doc. Wakey, wakey, eggs and bac-y."

"Please," Doc Benton pleaded, scared now that he was the one on the table.

"Please what? You've been killing poor bastards for over 150 years and now you got a request? After kidnapping my brother? After trying to kill my wife? Shut up," Dean snapped.

Benton stared at him with pleading eyes, "No, you don't understand. I can help you. I know what you need."

Sam seemed interested in that. Dean didn't seen to notice as he looked at Bridget. "We might have to cut him up into little bits. You know, this immortality thing is a bitch."

"Can we start with his eyes…or at least one so he can still see what were doing?" Bridget asked.

"I can read the formula for you. You know...immortality...Forever young, never die," he bargained.

"Dean…" Sam said staring at his brother, eyes wide in hope.

"Sam…" Dean said with a bored tone.

"Talk to me over here for a minute," Sam gestured them to follow just a few feet away.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I mean, we're talking hell in three weeks. Or needing a new pancreas in like half a century," Sam gave him the options of what Doc Benton was bargaining.

"Sam, you can't actually pick those up at a Target," Bridget pointed out. "So you're talking about killing people…how would that make us different from him?" she gestured at the table.

Sam rolled his eyes, looking back at his brother. "It's not perfect, but it buys us more time to think of something better. We just need time, Dean. I mean, please, just...just think about it."

"No," Dean shook his head.

"Dean, don't you want to live?"

"What he is isn't living. Look, this is simple."

"Simple?" Sam repeated.

Dean moved back over to Doc Benton. "To me it is, okay. Black or white; human, not human. See, what the Doc is, is a freakin' monster. I can't do it. I would rather go to hell."

"You don't understand!" Benton shouted. "I can help you!"

Dean doused a rag in chloroform and laid it over the Doc's face, staring at Sam. "Now, I'm gonna take care of him. You can either help me or not. It's up to you."

Reluctantly Sam nodded.

* * *

Bridget set her drawing pad next to her and leaned forward from the backseat after Dean hung up with Bela. "And how is that bitch doing?"

"Not great seeing as how her time is almost up on her deal. She's panicking."

Bridget pursued her lips, "Is it wrong of me to say good?"

"No."

"Then good, I hope she rots there."

"Aren't you being a little harsh?" Sam asked her.

"Aren't you forgetting she shot you?" she reminded him.

"Point taken."

"She's finally in a situation she can't charm herself out of or steal her way through and it scares her…as it should."

There was a silence in the car as they all thought of the inevitable. That soon those hounds would be coming after Dean and there was nothing they could do to stop it. In a month, she would be a widow and Sam would be God knows where, trying to do God knows what to get Dean back. She wasn't sure she could handle dark Sam. She wasn't even sure she could handle herself. It would all come crashing down in three weeks. Bridget let out a deep breath. "I still say we should have dismembered Doc Benton."

"That would have been messy," Dean told her.

"I was totally in the mood to dismember somebody. Not bury someone in a fridge ten feet under ground."

"It was the easiest way and he suffers," Sam pointed out.

"He'd suffer even more with his head in another box."

"Well, this way we save time on dismembering people and can go relax somewhere else," Sam sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted.

"I'm not tired. I want to dismember someone," she pouted.

"You can disrobe me at the hotel if it makes you feel better," Dean wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Sam groaned at the thought and Bridget pondered it. "I guess that could work."

"You can be in charge this time, do what you will."

She grinned, "Oh I got plenty of things in mind."

Sam groaned again, draping his arm over his eyes and sinking into his seat. "Can you bury me in fridge before you do this, please?"

They continued on with the sexual innuendos across the state line and Bridget smiled, knowing this would be one of the final times they ever got to share laughs. She glanced at the drawing pad next to her. A grandfather clock striking midnight…ticking to Dean's death. She closed it, sliding it away from her. It was going to happen, she knew it. But it wasn't going to happen now and the time they had now was all that mattered.


End file.
